


Flesh Between Tainted Teeth

by InsaneLikeMe69



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Denial of Feelings, F/M, Mention of Necrophilia, Miscarriage, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-31
Updated: 2020-03-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:35:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 24,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23416816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsaneLikeMe69/pseuds/InsaneLikeMe69
Summary: Gwyneth Sin, a Dunmer begger. A poor soul not rich or gifted with magic casted astray on the old cobblestone. She was nothing to many, a waste of breath but not to the void. Only the darkness talked and she listened, for she was the Listener.A Listener who needed much care and love, who other than dear old Cicero. He was lonely, just like his sweet, sweet Listener.
Relationships: Cicero/Female Dovahkiin | Dragonborn, Cicero/Female Listener (Elder Scrolls)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	1. Ritual

Tears. They had grown cold and stiff on Gwyneth's cheeks.She raised her shackled hands to cover her shivering nude body. The last Gwyneth remembered was walking the road near Whiterun, the brisk morning air tossing her mangled black locks. Then a woman showed up. A Daughter of Cold Harbor. she heard many tales from the wandering Khajiit. Her eyes colder than the deep depths of the sea. The red orbs bore into her own like a lit torch. She promised lodging and food with a silver tongue. A smile so promising. Her body began to shiver as the woman came closer her swollen form swaying towards the elf. "Why are you doing this?!" Gwyn choked on saliva that gathered in her throat. Candles lit themselves ominously, turning to a deep purple hue. Tears bristled anew. Caught in the purple light, basked in all her beauty was a Nord woman. Long soft waves of red wine slipped across her pale skin. A horrid beauty. She bent down, her cloak covering her naked bodice slipping the slightest "dear, your but a gift" her voice was softer than honey mead. Gwyn's mouth grew dry. Tongue twisted and stuck to the roof of her mouth. "What?" It came out as a squeak. Barley a whisper, weak and shriveled. Disbelieving. The Nord woman stood tall cupping her swollen belly full with child " Get the vile, Molag Bal grows impatient" her breathing became ragged, choking on nothing but air "NO! PLEASE DON'T!" A croak soon turned into a deafening screech as the well polished and oiled hand of the Nord came crashing against Gwyn's cheek. The collision of her hand sent her head whipping sideways. Black locks curling around a neck like a noose at the gallows. She couldn't stop the shivering that racked her malnourished body as the Mistress inched closer to the shrine made disturbingly for Molag Bal decorated with bones of the weak. The Mistress casted her clothing aside as she invoked Molag Bal. The room roared to life. Men varying from races joined together behind the unclad woman chanting in a tongue she hardly recognized. Everything shook. Dust fell from the dirt ceiling clotting with the sweat. "STUPID MORTALS!" a voice graver than death broke the roar of crumbling foundation. Gwyn froze, eyes locked forward before the Nord woman at the shrine. There stood a ethereal figure. Rising from the deep purple almost blue flames. The fires lapped at it contorting the form. Horns. They curled around it's deformed, demonic face. The woman with arms spread wide spoke over the bellowing flames "a gift my Dread Lord, God of Schemes, Lord Of Lies, The tormen-" a thundering growl shook the walls, beaconing some of the stones to pull themselves apart. "ENOUGH! GET MY VESSEL READY!" the Mistress flenched harshly almost as if the corporeal demon was to reprimand her. ______________________________________________________ Gwyn's skin pulsed. Beat in time with her rapid heart. Why does he need a vessel? Her body almost went limp when everything clicked. She wasn't to be killed, or just gifted but to be ravaged by the monster. Like a caged animal she began to rip and pull at the shackles screaming incoherent things to any who could listen. Gwyneth was innocent, and by the Divines she would not let a daedric prince taint her. "Unchain her!" The Mistress spoke making Gwyn's actions freeze momentarily. Her voice was almost as commanding as the daedric prince himself. Two males came forward, black cloaks shrouding their faces. "Please?! Let me go!" They wouldn't answer. "YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" a cry caught in Gwyn's throat as another form walked forward. His steps graceful. His sway of his body steady and precise. This male donned a cloak, black as the others but more intricate. A sun, golden in color shimmered around his neck. Buttons made of silver. A vessel's robe. He drew closer, making Gwyneth kick her legs to get as far as she possibly could from the man. He pushed his hood back, letting dark waves cascade down his face like a curtain. His skin a deep blue, almost Ebony. A dark elf. Piercing red eyes that glowed in the darkness ate Gwyn's form up with such intense lust. "Please" it was weak, she knew he wouldn't listen too lost in the intoxication. "Beg. I enjoy it when the mortals beg" his voice wavered back and forth, two frequencies fighting for dominance. Her legs shook, quivered they ached to kick. Her voice whimpered, delving deep into her throat when he leaned down placing his icy hands near her knees. Like a predator, he leaned in fluttering his eyes shut breathing in her scent almost as if it was a delicacy. Fat tears rolled down her dirt covered cheeks. "Go. Fuck. YOURSELF!" Gwyneth snarled, bearing teeth animalisticaly. He cocked his head a smirk gracing his sharp features. "Get the vial" he didn't break eye contact once and Gwyneth sensed the doom. It settled deep in the pit of her stomach. The Mistress came forward, a vial in hand. The contents swirled around grotesquely, a deep red almost black. "NOO! YOUR SICK! SICK!" She was desperate, clenching her fists tight, a cat backed into a corner not even the chance to fight. BAM! the Vessel reached out colliding his palm with her face making her head jerk backwards hitting the wall with a deafening crunch. Everything swirled. Mixed together like a morbid concoction as she slipped slowly to the dirt ground. She crawled backwards with her feet kicking up small clouds of dust as she grasped her head feeling the slick blood flowing there. "They look so good laying on their back, hold her arms" even through the muffled voices she heard him. Gwyn's vision tunneled, centering on his looming smile as he straddled her. "GET OFF! PLEASE! please" she choked out clenching her eyes shut while she nuzzled the floor. Hands groped, defiled her. Kept her in place. Digged their nails deep into her flesh. Somewhere in the distance she heard her "Our Lord, my you condemn this insignificant excuse of a woman to endless torture. Let her thirst turn her to ash, let her memories beg for death, but she will never receive" her voice was flat, monochrome. Too calm. Gwyneth writhed, thrashing against their hold. Her throat grew hoarse, she couldn't bellow above the laughter of the man before her that took enjoyment from her thrashing. He took advantage, rutted into her and had the audacity to grin wide down at her as he used Gwyn's body. "Sweet child" it was soft distant. Gwyn didn't hear it over her own screeches. Still moving against her he sounded defeated when the Mistress produced the vial to him. "Pity, I was having fun" his lower lip jutted out in mock. POP! the cork was casted aside. Like hell she was going to have that anywhere near her. Gwyneth's head whipped back and forth haphazardly screaming out incoherent words of denial. "Hold her head! HOLD HER!" The Dunmer roared growing inpatient at the stubbornness this woman had. Two set of hands gripped her hair while the other held her temples. She was pinned. It drew closer. A closer look sent shivers down Gwyn's spine, the liquid sloshed around with the consistency of tar. Her face scrunched up as the taste blossomed in her dry mouth. Iron, bitter acid. She began to gag having trouble keeping down the disgusting substance. "Shhhh, swallow it!" His face was hidden in the crook of her neck, so close she could feel his hair tickle her chin. Tears bristled anew as she struggled against the bile rising in her throat finally mumbling against the bile as she shook her head. SMACK! "SWALLOW!" the elven male landed another slap against her face making her cough the fluid down in terror. She wept angry at herself for not spitting out the vile liquid. "Goood Girl" his voice sung morbidly as his lips trailed down Gwyn's neck leaving liquid fire in its wake. "Poor, poor child" the voice so muffled wept distantly. Gwyn couldn't hear it, couldn't concentrate on it. Between the sexually frustrated male dragging his hardened length against her and the pain that pulsated through her veins she couldn't bring herself to be aware of reality. The agony pulsated, throbbed increasing each second until a scream ripped through her. "Dear child, listen" her eyes flicked quickly back and forth shivering in agony. "WHAT! WHAT DO YOU WANT! IM LISTENING, WHY CANT YOU HELP ME!" Gwyn beared her teeth, spit flying from her maul. She was being devoured by flames, her flesh boiling off the bones. Her hands rose clawing at her face trying to soothe the bursting flames. Thirst worse than any itch clawed it's way from her throat. Gwyn swallowed by the agony drew away from the world, the ritual everything. She didn't pay attention when the male began shedding his robe, or when he laid himself on top of her. But the voice did, it commanded. "Raise child, you are strong" it's authority giving her power. It was intoxicating. Like skooma it dulled the pain and pulled her with force back to her own body. A smile pulled her lips, they cracked with blood. Hands, steady and cold gripped his face. "What are you-" the elf's face twisted in confusion. His skin throbbed under her fingertips, pumped life through his veins. She was driven, lulled to tear his throat open, for all to see. His scream shocked everyone. And Gwyneth loved it. ______________________________________________________ She smelled grotesquely nice. Iron flooded her nostrils until it was all she smelled. Blood coated her entire body, some hers and we'll the other not so much. "Walk, child. This is no place for you. Find Cicero."


	2. Blood fiend

The blood loss finally began taking it's toll. It came in the form of odd thirst, like Gwyn hadn't drank in days. Her legs shook as she carried herself through the tunnels. She was weak. Her mind still replayed the invents over and over never relenting in it's pursuit.  
___________________________________________________ Molag Bal roared when his Vessel fell, blood pooling around him. The blood intoxicated her like a new drug, but even through the fog she heard him "I'LL KILL YOUR FLESH, I'LL RAVAGE YOUR CHAMPION, DEFILE HER MYSELF!" as she thought back on it she flinched. "You are free sweet child" the comforting voice spoke pulling her away from the memories edging her to move faster, reminding her of her victory. Gwyn stopped, she inhaled. Brisk morning air, floral perfume, and a hint of ripe berries. But something else. It made her stomach flip. It was musky, a hint of iron floated around the delicious smell of Sweet Rolls. She didn't care, Gwyn bursted into a run. Unsteady but determined. She almost screamed in delight when her bare feet digged into the dirt. Gwyn let the sun, bare down on her naked form. Letting the rays burn uncomfortably across her dark skin never felt so good before. "Further" the sickening sweet voice of a woman whispered again, trying to guide the short elf. The odd fragrance she smelled before became stronger as she turned a corner, onto a road. A wagon sat still, loaded with odds and ends. "Hello?" Gwyneth choked out, her throat collapsing and sticking to its self. Closer she got, a man back facing her mumbled to himself. Bent at his waist he observed his wheel with a grave voice seemingly arguing with himself. "Help! Please!" She spoke louder finding her fear once again. Almost as frightened as her he swiveled around his amber eyes blown wide. ___________________________________________________ A jester. A bloody jester. She hadn't seen one since.... Well forever it would seem. But this one was, different? His Motley mostly darken colors of red and black. Not as colorful as she remembered. His skin was the opposite of hers, whiter than parchment paper. His hair red as new embers, it memorized Gwyn. "Cicero found a pretty elf-" his voice lost itself as his gaze wondered down. She saw it, for a second even smelled it. Arousal. However, he quickly snapped his eyes upwards. "Pretty elf is injured is she not?" He crept closer a sinister smile plastered across his face. "Please! They- they tried to turn me into a blood fiend! You have to help!" She clenched her stomach subconsciously feeling the blood swirl uncomfortably under her skin. If she dug her fingers any deep she would feel the layers of fat that hang splayed open. "Let Cicero help and I'll-" the Imperial hadn't gotten the chance to finish before Gwyn collapsed. Her legs had gotten her this far before giving out under the weight and trauma. It was blurred, just a simple blink of her eyelids and she was splayed on the carriage. Facing the blue sky she felt her world spin drastically. "Pretty elf needs to stay with Cicero, can't let her bleed out just yet" his words were so hard to concentrate on. The ominous beating of drums echoing in Gwyneth's ears. __________________________________________________ Cicero lingered. Thinking aloud. Softly, calmly under his breath. "Cicero could kill her" he tapped his chin with a bloodied finger. "Or since she's so pretty, wait until she's dead and ravaaaage her" he cooed his words eerily candied. Then her eyes rolled towards him, settling on his exposed neck. Her eyes glowed, a fiery red. Burning into his core. "Ah, our pretty elf is a blood sucker. Tsk, tsk, tsk~" in that moment he made up his mind. He would keep her, for now. ___________________________________________________ Gwyn's hand reached, hoping to find something to ground herself to keep from floating away. She flinched when something warm was pressed to her chapped lips. Once, twice she blinked begging the blur to fade. When it did the Jester peered down at her a leer lingering on his lips. A confused look contorted her pained features "drink, this will make it better silly elf" his voice was hoarse hiding his true intentions. She had gotten away before they completed the ritual right? It couldn't be that she was....no it wasn't true. He pressed his wrist harder, his impatience showing across his face "by Sithis, drink! Do you want to die!?" Gwyn flinched, opting to clench her eyes tight letting her pride deprive her of help. Iron. It was heavy, it coaxed her eyes open like a spring that had been coiled tightly let loose with ease. "Drink" his voice was softer. Gwyneth's lips opened with a audible pop. "Drink child, he's trying to help. Let him help" the mysterious woman urged her. Gwyn cringed. As her teeth punctured his flesh it produced a awful sound. Her teeth ripped his tendons and veins like paper making a crisp sound of crunching into a ripe apple. Gwyn lost in blood lust found her self digging her nails into his arm leaving Cicero to gasp out moans barely audible into the air. "Hey" he groaned out his fist constricting tightly to gain the woman's attention. She was lost, delving head first into her thirst. "Hey!" Louder this time but his pleads fell on deaf ears. Cicero had to think, had to find a plan before she drained him of his consciousness. Cicero laced his fingers in her long dark mane and yanked. He was successful. Her mouth detached with a lewd 'pop' leaving her dazed. The haze lasted for seconds. Her face twisted, snarled like a demon. A feral blood fiend. His blood wasn't helping either, she had torn through layers of flesh ripping many veins in the process making the wound bleed profusely. Cicero clasped his free hand over the wound attempting to stop the river flowing from his wrist. ____________________________________________________ Fear. It weaseled it's way into her nostrils. A familiar smell. She shared it once. Gwyn reared her head back in horror. Gwyn slammed her bruised back against the edge of the carriage putting as much space between her and the enticing smell of blood. She shielded herself, placing her trembling hands over her head whimpering soft pleads of mercy. Tears, slid down her cheeks splattering on her thighs trailing red. "Poor elf, Cicero is fine look" she peered over her knees holding back strangled coughs. His wrist was healed, no bite mark, no scar. Completely healed. "Cicero came prepared" the Jester held a empty potion dangling it between them. "I'm sorry, I'm so-" her hiccups were interrupted when Cicero infiltrated her space. "Shhhh" his gloves were warm against Gwyn's icy cold skin. It almost made tears prickle against her water line. Almost. Cicero's dancing fingers gracefully slipped down from her cheek and trailed off to her perfectly aligned neck. His eyes lingered for too long, a spark glittering in the amber pools. He didn't stop. Much to Gwyneth's displeasure. Her breathing quickened. His fingers pressed themselves harshly to her cleavage. Gwyn screwed her eyes shut tears wealing up. Flashes. Fresh memories clouded her mind. The sent of Lust made her eyes flare, burn with wrath. Gwyn gripped Cicero's wondering hand with a death grip. She could even hear the faint sound of bones crunching. "Give me clothes." Gwyn angled her eyes, the yellow bursting with a orange glow reflecting in Cicero's amber orbs "NOW!" Even her own voice shook her. It was gravely, hoarse, even raspy and it was very befitting of a beast of the night. It was like the mad man had a spell casted over him. The glaze she hadn't noticed before lifted from his eyes. "Oh! Cicero didn't know what came over him! Pretty elf is just so.. well pretty. The body that could make Dibella shameful" Cicero rambled a noticable dusting of pink across his cheeks. Cicero turned making a black dress appear from thin air it would seem. "Thank you" Gwyn's voice held some venom none the less she was grateful. As she smoothed out the noticeably sheer dress her mind reeled. This had to of been a woman's night gown. She angled her vision downwards, a speckle of dark red sat near the v-neck. The saliva caught deep in her throat. "The dress fits the pretty elf" a devilish giggle ripped through his lips as he gawked openly. "Better than the Nord" he threw his head back like he told the best joke in all of Skyrim. Gwyn pulled herself inwards, wanting nothing more to shrink away. "Cicero jests!" More laughter explodes from his trembling form still reeling from the quakes of giggles. "Ah! Cicero hadn't got the.." his eyes lingered on Gywn's features coping her mind stalling beauty to memory. He cleared his voice "Hadn't got the pretty elf's name!" His voice bounced with excitement as he pulled himself to the front of the carriage. Gwyn mulled over his words. Should she tell him? If she did he wouldn't use his pet name that he oh so liked using. "Gwyneth Sin" that name sounded so foreign to her, the syllables rolling off her tongue in sickening waves. "Gwyneth Sin" Cicero rolled it like a fine wine, liking the way it sounded. A quick whip of the reigns made Gwyn lurch forward. The horses immediately roaring to life. "Ah, it suits the elf very much. Cicero likes it." He peered over his shoulder, a smirk gracing his bowed lips. A smile a heart stricken elf couldn't refuse. Without consent, a joyful grin crept onto her full lips. She hadn't let a single happy expression grace her lips, until now.


	3. Fill the Void

Drifting. Floating in a sea of darkness. "Child" the voice boomed, full of vicious authority a male's voice it would seem. Gwyn expected to feel...Fear? But no such emotion overwhelmed her. Instead, the fear she was so accustomed to hibernated deep in the dead winter of her heart. "Listen" it changed, softened. Gwyn squinted her glowing orbs attempting to peer into the everlasting darkness. "I am but the Abyss, always watching, protecting. Do not fret dear child, for when death closes in know I will be there to welcome you to the Void." Gwyneth swung around feverishly trying to to find the source of the voice. As her flickering eyes peered at merely the darkness a set of red orbs bursted into existence. The piercing eyes fascinated Gwyn, enthralled her. "This child doesn't remember. But a person won't remember their past unless they want to" the voice sent shivers down her spine. Gwyneth was frozen, frozen from the uncertainty, frozen for the fact that she should be scared. But she wasn't. "Don't fret for what you can't see, child. Stay in the shadows and I'll never leave you" the thundering voice began to fade. "WAIT! what do I call you!" It was dark, no red eyes welcomed her only silence until a woman spoke. "Listen" she whispered close to Gwyneth's pointed ears. Gwyn parted with the sweetly calm command of the Void. Only when she was once in her undead body did she feel the prickly daggers of eyes watching her every move. "What do you want Cicero?" Her voice was hoarse and thick with sleep. Cicero snickered before answering "Cicero was only curious as to why his sweet, sweet Gwyneth was whimpering in her sleep" Gwyn opened her eyes, a slight pull to her brows. "Was I crying?" Cicero nodded as he started to pack various equipment. "I was dreaming" Gwyn opened her mouth once more but decided it wasn't for the Jester's ears and kept it to herself. "Do you want to elighten Cicero?" He cocked his head, only then did Gwyn realize that he had just woken since he didn't get the chance to replace his hat. His red locks spilling like waterfalls down his shoulders. "Gwyn?" Cicero stood inching closer to Gwyn. "Oh! It was just a bad dream. It is really fine Cicero" she faked a small smile hoping it would work for the moment. Cicero stared his eyes turning to slits. His lips pursing in thought. He didn't believe her words. And yet he didn't want to push her further. "Okay, pretty Gwyn. Get ready we must leave before it gets any later" he swiveled around. Gwyn couldn't help but settle her eyes on his lithe form. His humble muscles told many stories, stories of murder, showed that this man knew his way around a knife. Gwyn knew when she saw him, could smell the old blood on his skin. He was a killer. Just like Gwyn was, both sharing the same paths. If his smell didn't alert her, his eyes sure did. Void of emotion, nothing but melting Amber. A groan produced itself unknowingly from her throat. As much as she loved to deny it, she couldn't keep herself from fantasizing about the crazed Imperial. Gwyn swallowed that thought. She only meant him yesterday, yes he saved her life but she wouldn't fall for a mad man so quickly.  
___________________________________________________ They set out not too long ago and found themselves trekking south, near Riverwood. Birds chirpped and the wind blew. A smell came with it. Gwyn snapped her head to the direction, her hand flying out to grip Cicero's. "Stop!" He pulled on the reigns harshly his face twisting about to make a angry comment. "Shh" Gwyn closed her eyes inhaling deeply. Sweat. Dirt. Fear. "Someone is out there" Gwyn gazed at the forest watching for any movement. "That's not our problem Gwyn" Cicero mumbled physically aggravated. "No wait" she grabbed his knee making him jerk, almost as if he wasn't customed to the soft feeling of a female. Gwyn didn't take notice as she hopped off the carriage with erie grace. "You can't smell it, but I can" she drifted forward trying to listen for the slightest move. That's when she heard it. A soft whisper of a whimper. "Ah! Pretty Gwyn hears something with her Vampire ears! What a great listener she would be only if-" Gwyneth shot him daggers silencing him with only a look. She left into the thick foliage not waiting or looking to see if Cicero will follow. The whimpers grew louder. More chaotic. Terrified. Gwyn dropped to her knee hiding behind a bush as she took in the scene infront of her. A wolf, teeth baring, foaming from its maul like a vicious demon. It hovered over a small form. A child. She quivered in terror as she held herself trying to curl into a small ball. Cicero lightly danced his fingers across Gwyn's exposed shoulder "should we kill both of them? Take the wolf for dear Cicero to eat and you can have the crying child?!" His voice peaked in excitement. Gwyn didn't answer only clasping her hand over his mouth to silence him. "Stay here, I'll go and- Hey!" Cicero slid his tongue across her palm, a devious glare boring into her own. She ignored the suggesting glint in his eye and wiped the saliva off on her dress as she began to raise. This wasn't the best idea. Some would say the worst one yet. She whipped back around, once again crouching this time inches from Cicero's face "I'll need this" Gwyn grasped his dagger sheathed near his thigh. Cicero produced a squeak as the elf twirled the knife in her hand. She was never taught how to proficiently wield a dagger but the darkened metal felt so right in her palm. Gwyn dug her feet into the ground, standing her ground. "HEY!" her voice boomed catching the wolf's attention. It slinked backwards from the child, it's snarl stretching at a ungodly amount as it growled. "The mangy dog is diseased" Cicero hissed from behind Gwyn, a warning. The Wolf's fur was missing in spots, it's skin blistering. Then it rushed. It's weight throwing the thin Night Walker to the ground with a grunt. Its maul snapped and salivated mere inches from her nose. Gwyn was overpowered. This animal was lean from the many hours of hunting and she was but a newly turned Vampire. She felt her muscles scream as she twisted her fingers deep into it's fur and pushed with all the strength she could muster. She managed to toss it to her side, and she clumsily crawled over it. Placing her knee in it's throat she clenched the dagger that had become loose in her hold. As she plunged the Ebony dagger into it's throat a roar produced deep from her stomach bellowed into the air. Blood thick and warm graced her hands. Unlike living human blood this scarlet liquid held the muskiness of undesirable wet dog. Gwyn cringed baring her white fangs as she wiped the blood onto her dress in disgust. "You killed it!" The child's ecstatic cry almost made Gwyn jump from her own skin. She had forgotten about the child. Gwyneth stood tossing the dagger back to Cicero, she turned in time to see the child sprint towards her. The child lacked grace. The blond tumbled over a protruding root. A bubbly giggle came from Gwyn "you shouldn't run like that, the forest is ungrateful to- her words crawled hissing down her throat to hide. The child leaned backwards, fresh tears covering her cheeks. However, as she held her knee a red sheen coated it. "Dear child, looks like the Divines aren't looking upon you today!" Cicero's maddened cackles were nothing but distant mumbles. Gwyn's ears thundered with the rapid beats of a young heart. She felt her throat clench, suddenly growing dry. The child's heart raced, like a prisoner begging to be let out of a cell. Gwyn would surely let the prisoner free, with pleasure. Gwyn's fingers laced into the girl's green dress, darkened by grime. "I'm fine just- HEY!" Her dress felt like silk in my hands, so right. "Sofia?! I look away for one second!" It was faint, barely there. Gwyneth slinked her hands from the soft material to the lanky arms, finding purchase in the pure skin there. Only feeling satisfied when her long claws digged into the tan skin. Gwyn let her eyes roll when the intoxicating stench of Iron flooded her nostrils. Her mouth hang open in a breathless pant. "Your hurting me!" The girl's whimper fell on deaf ears. Gwyn let her eyes settle on the horrified stare. Those blue orbs shivering in terror. It made her blood hum. The girl twisted in Gwyn's hold as she digged deeper into her skin, seeking the same mind altering smell. The struggling was too much for the weak vampire, even Cicero's blood wasn't enough. Gwyn hoisted the child into the air, her lanky legs flailing mindlessly like strangled pigs. The blood had become too much, too stimulating. Gwyn ripped the child's head to the side with her hand buried deep into the blonde locks as she plunged into her throat. Gwyn sunk deep, could feel the pulsating veins. Suffocated screams permeated the forest, gaging on blood. Crunching of veins, sounds of moist flesh falling to the blood painted grass, and distantly a cry of a terrified mother. "Sweet Gwyn, let's just take her. Feast on her on the road" Cicero whispered as he laid soft kisses on her neck, hopping to get a angered reaction, any reaction if at all. But no, Cicero's candy-coated words drifted in the air not being heard. Bones crunched as Gwyn coiled her arms around her food, lost in the blood lust. Cicero's wondering hands attempted to take the hungered attention from the child as he was the only one that seemed to hear the growing voice, this time not so distant. His hands danced on her icy skin, one traveling to a breast the other the curve of her butt. He didn't go light, settling on a crushing grip. Only a deep groan reverberated from Gwyn's throat however nothing more came from her. Gwyneth was lost, covered in innocent blood not wanting to retreat from it. The hunger drained her humanity. "Gwyneth" Cicero growled into her ear, so close he could smell the stench of Iron soaking the woman, so close his groin begged for the warmth of this female. Anything.  
____  
Deranged screeches of help pierced the forest making the animals flee, bursting from their hiding places. Chaos, insanity as both prey and predator alike ran. Even deeper did Gwyneth devour, ripped chunks of stained flesh to have liquid flow like a river into her mouth. At this point she wasn't just feeling the blood lust, but lust in its raw form. She was fully aware of Cicero. His eager thrusts against her plump backside made heat plummet to her core. "Child" she began unconsciously pushing backwards against Cicero. "Sweet child" Cicero's hands trailed to her hips, holding for his life as his moans swirled with curses. "Listen" chills brought bumps to cover the whole of Gwyn's body. "She's dead" they spoke in Union. Feminine and masculine all at once. She haulted, finally sensing the girl's lax muscles in her tightened arms. Cicero grunted hoarsely into Gwyn's ear "why did you stop?" His hands still gripped harshly at Gwyneth's hips, his hardened length very prominent at her behind. "She's dead" Gwyn whispered momentarily loosing her voice. "So?" Cicero was persistent as he nuzzled his way into the crook of Gwyn's neck, licking a a trail of salty sweat. Gwyn fought the urge to sigh, told herself this wasn't right. None of this was. But she still found herself turning into his tight embrace. "Gwyn looks sooo good covered in blood" Cicero cooed once again licking a trail from her cleavage to her collar bones lapping up the glistening blood there. Gwyn was absolutely drenched. In many ways. Blood coated her mouth, ran down her neck and collected in her bossom. "Turn around" Cicero hissed, his voice raspy made Gwyn's legs tremble. She obeyed eagerly bending at her waist. Cicero's hands ghosted across her plump flesh whispering unheard compliments. Cold air harassed her weeping core making a gasp leave her bloodied lips. "Looks like the feasting made my pretty elf worked up" his voice hummed sending vibrations throughout Gwyn's quivering body. His fingers grazed against Gwyn's slick folds as he leaned over her "I want to fuck you drenched in blood, defile that pure look in your eye" his words sent shivers down her spine. She was too caught up in the delightful pleasure to see the movement before them. "SOFIA!" The woman's screech stilled Cicero's movemt against her quivering core. "Sofia! No, no ,no not my little girl!" The woman skidded towards the child pulling at her limp body. "Your sick!" Gwyn stiffened, drew herself back to reality. She had killed a child, ripped her throat apart. And now look at her, bent over dress pushed up on her back, a crazed Jester about to fuck her. She straightened herself, embarrassment and horror fighting for dominance over her facial features as she struggled to pull her dress from Cicero's flustered grip. "Tsk, tsk. Your going to let a grieving mother ruin our fun?" Cicero pouted sticking his bottom lip out in mock. Gwyn tugged at her dress once more this time pulling the dress from him "yes!" Gwyn began to leave feeling the bile rise in her throat. Cicero was boiling. Could feel the rage pour from his pores. "You stupid BITCH!" Cicero lunged ripped at the grieving woman's hair. Twisted the golden locks between his fingers as he dragged her close " Cicero should fuck your brains out for that" Cicero hissed his lips pulled into a taunt snarl. The woman wept uncontrollably, snot slipping out from her nose. Disgust graced Cicero's chaotic smirk. "You better be glad Cicero doesn't fancy your dreadful face" he slammed her head to the dirt covered ground enjoying the bone chilling crunch that resonated around him. ___________________________________________________ Even as she heard the scream she didn't bother to turn. Instead she collapsed at the feet of the horses, nothing but a weeping mess. She was a monster, and could do nothing to stop it.


	4. Delightfully Numb

It rained. Poured like the gods cried for the loss of Gwyn's innocence, tainted with blood. Cicero tried to persuade Gwyn to sit infront with him, where he had covered the seating for comfort in the downpour. She declined. Opted to sit next to the odd coffin, Cicero said it was his mother. His words were cryptic, a unnerving undertone. Even then she sat with the coffin, letting the rain pelt her. If it wasn't for her soaked dress sticking to her ebony skin she would go as far as saying it wasn't raining. She couldn't feel it. Couldn't feel the bite of the icy water. Couldn't feel the frost coating her skin. Didn't see the breath that bellowed from her lips. Had the raise of her shoulders been fake? Something to make her feel...mortal. Gwyn clenched her fists, balling the soaked fabric in her fingers. Dreams, horrid plagued her mind. Swarmed it with screams, rotting hands that groped her, the slime of bile covered her whole being. The nightmares played relentlessly behind her eyelids, over and over. Gwyn resisted blood, couldn't drink it without throwing up. Her own body decided, it was against it's morals. She only had mortal food, save for the few animals she drank from to quench the monster within. The rain grew more harsh, making her dark hair hang heavy down her face the ends trickling with water. It washed away the blood, made her skin shine with gloss. One could assume she was alive until they looked into her orbs. Orange burst, similar to a dying star bloomed with a erie glitter of yellow. It was inhumane. The brisk rain twisted in the air twirling with snow. Gwyneth couldn't even feel the breath of Winter, only see the shivers from Cicero's trembling shoulders. There was so much she wanted to feel. Enjoy. Love. Instead she got an internity. She wanted children. To hear their soft laughter, their sweet babbles. Gwyneth closed her eyes, thick tears trickling down her cheeks. She gasped when they splattered across her hands that linked together on her lap. Blood. Thick, dark blood. She whipped at the tears only to find more red substance. Gwyn barred her teeth, clenched her hair as she bent forward. Why couldn't she just bled out? Die on the road trying to get help. Never been born. Gwyn kept the scream begging to bellow from her lips deep in the dark caverns of her throat. She wasn't normal, no longer a mortal, no longer just a Dunmer. Just a monster. She felt her nails dig into her scalp welcoming it with silence. If this was the only way to feel.. anything than so be it. "Finally, Cicero has found a inn Gwyn!" Cicero chittered happily not aware of Gwyn's turmoil paying attention only to the small inn. Gwyn raised her head from her knees blinking quickly to focus on a lit inn. A bellow of smoke swirling with the failing snow raised from the chimney. The inn was quaint, a small cottage made from stone. "Come Gwyn! Cicero is cold!" He held himself the tip of his nose and ears a shade of red. A faint smile graced Gwyn's emotionless features just for a second as she thought how a man that seemed so sweet could be a killer. No care for anyone. Only surviving. Gwyn hopped down not paying attention to the smallest gesture of Cicero's hand that he held out. Cicero took his hand in quickly with a frown as the elf sweeped past him, a look so similar graced her face. She acted as if the world never existed in the first place. No matter, he tucked his hand under his armpit once again trailing behind her soaked figure.

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Gwyn placed two swift knocks to the old wooden door letting her hand hang uselessly next to her side as she waited. "Hold on!" A woman's voice echoed from within, muffled. When the door opened a waft of air swept past Gwyn bringing a scent with it. Sweet Rolls. Her nose wrinkled. She had grown to hate this smell. Despise it. Detest it's very presence. "Honey? Are you okay?!" A elderly Nord stood before her. Wrinkles enbedd deep in her honeyed skin. Gwyn could imagine it. She was once a beauty, her sunkissed hair glistened in the light, her body lean and fit for bearing many children. Now she was only a whisper of herself. Her hair now silver and tied into a messy bun. Her back curved making the Nord shorter than the Dunmer. But her eyes, a golden hue never aged. It shimmered like golden apples in the brisk morning sun. Her eyes made her feel like family. "Your soaked! Drenched to the bone! Oh dear you even have frost in your hair!" The woman reached forward grasping at Gwyn's wrist. Gwyneth twitched, harshly. Rougher than she had expected. It hadn't gone unnoticed by either parties. "Oh love, what happened to you? Your colder than ice" the woman cooed as she guided Gwyn inside with a light touch to her shoulder fearing another outburst. Cicero was more than happy to be let in, his shivers died down as he sat cross legged at the fire his gloves placed in his lap as his fingers twitched "ah, thought Cicero would loose feeling" he sighed more to himself than anyone. Gwyn couldn't care. Couldn't find any fragment of herself to care for the poor Jester. She stared at the back of his ember colored locks as the woman drifted off muttering concerns. Gwyn's hair fell like a curtain across her eyes, shadowing the glow as she molded scenes of murdering the fool while he slept. While he turned his back to her. Like now. He was a fool, showing your back to the enemy. You ask for the dagger in your side. "Here you go dear! New dry clothes, those are far too thin for this harsh Winter" the woman babbled as she pushed the fur clothes into Gwyn's hands. "Oh what about him does he-" Gwyn barked snapping a remark between clenched teeth "he's fine." The woman blinked in shock "oh, okay" she smacked her head in stupidity "dumb me! I didn't introduce myself, Grandma Rose or just Rose!" She held her hand out her smile beaming across her face in heavenly rays of light. Hesitantly Gwyn reached out, wrapping her long clawed fingers into the withered ones "Gwyn" she whispered her voice low and tethered. Like a animal locked in a cage, she only awaited the moment to strike. Rose beamed once again as she turned " I'm going to make some fresh stew and get you some warm tea" she paused disappearing behind a counter before popping her head back up looking towards the cracking fire "and what's your husband's name?" Gwyn couldn't help it, merely let the reigns go for a second. Her lips gnarled, pulled back to bare her fangs. " He is not my husband, not my lover and not a friend" her voice growled and made the room darken. Rose blinked looking at Cicero and back to Gwyn in a unbelievable glance. Gwyn didn't stay for any longer as she disappeared into a open room. Gwyn let the damp clothing drop to the floor with a 'plop' she frowned upon that dress, looking at it with only distaste. Pulling the thick fabric over her icy skin felt odd, never had she been this covered before. Always in rags. A thick cotton shirt, black as the night to draw heat to the wearer in the cold seasons hugged close to her form. It's long sleeves reaching her wrists. She tugged tightly on the draw strings near her cleavage, pulling them taunt to cover her plump flesh and tying it once she was happy with it. Out of the pile of fabric was pants, leather on the outside but lined inside with wool. She didn't need them, but thought that this was the best way to fit in. She had noticed at the bottom of the pile was a thick cloak, sew together with large furs. Once again she didn't need it but it brought her glee to wear it while the Jester shivered. She folded it up and hoisted it under her arms for safe keeping. ___________________________________________________ Gwyn found herself zoning out, staring at the crackling fire before her. The warmth wrapping her and coddling the anxiety from her bones. Gwyn blinked, watched as a woman with a flowing dress danced and swirled through the flames. She took the distraction without a second blink, letting the story of war die out in the erie twirls of the flame. Her dress swirled and lapped at the air making graceful jumps and spins. It memorized her, took her to a place where she felt....happy. A joyous smile graced her lips making them curl upwards as the woman whirled without care. "Love?" The fire woman stopped and placed her hands over her ear in a listening motion. "Love?" The woman jumped as if startled before placing a hand over her mouth, pointing behind Gwyn. A puzzled look befell Gwyn as she turned. Rose stared back, her head cocked sideways as she eyeballed Gwyn with confusion. Gwyn took a quick glance to the fire, a boring old fire. No mysterious dancing woman. Just flames that lapped at charred wood. "Did you hear me love?" Gwyn fully turned around then looking between Cicero and Rose. Both looking confused and concerned. "Is Cicero's Gwyn okay?" Cicero scooted forward from his place next to the fire. Gwyn recoiled prefering to stand rather trust Cicero to be next to her, in her space. "I'm fine, do you have any Mead?" Gwyn ignored Cicero's obvious furious features and walked with Rose to the bar settled far back in the inn. "This one is on the house love, looks like you need it" she took a tall bottle, the glass a dark green shadowing the sloshing liquid. Written onto a lable in elegant handwriting was "honey Mead" it made Gwyn hum with excitement. Whenever it was cold out and she wondered into a inn some nice innkeepers would grace her with a warm bed and soothing honey Mead. Gwyn almost squealed with joy. "Love, I noticed your having a little problem with that man over there" Gwyn glanced up from her wooden cup, her eyes turning to thin slits. " I can see it in his eyes love, he adores you." Rose leaned on the counter looking over Gwyn's shoulder where Cicero hummed a strange tune. "Don't be so harsh on him love, believe me I-" Gwyn slammed her cup down the sloshing liquid spilling onto her hand. "Don't give me that old person wise talk bullshit!" The woman's face was priceless. Her mouth wide in shock hang open. Gwyn crept closer her nose inches from Rose's, her eyes glistening in the reflection of Rose's golden orbs. Color drained from Rose's face, leaving her usually tan skin white as the snow that was failing outside. "You don't know nothing about me old woman" Gwyn's teeth grinded against each other as she growled. Rose twisted her fingers through Gwyn's black cotton shirt. "Are you sure?" The woman hissed with unseen venom as she pushed back the glowing eyed fiend. "Your a blood sucker! A Night Stalker!" She howled stepping backwards clutching a silver dagger tightly in her fists. "I got word from the village not too far from here, they said a woman's daughter had her throat ripped out! I knew you were suspicious!" She ranted as she backed up, noticing the spark of wrath in Gwyn's eye. "Your a monster!" Gwyn's vision darkened, swirled with red. Something withered then. Crumbled. Maybe her heart, but at that moment Gwyn's eyes became empty. And that's when she lunged. Engulfed rose with her taller form. She felt the warm eye rolling liquid hit her taste buds, swirl like a delicate wine in her mouth. She curled her arms around the strangling body, this one was stronger than the smaller prey. Gwyn crumpled to the floor enveloping the form with hers, letting herself drown in the intoxication. The pulse that hammered against her mouth began to die, slow to a soft drone. Pity. Gwyn, was slowly shifting. Twisted form of her past self. Even Cicero noticed but he always had his eyes on her. Gwyn grew cold, blocked out her strong compassion for people. Wasn't so trusting of strangers, didn't outwardly show her approval. She was changing, morphing to another person. A different personality. She was trying to cope. Cicero seen it not too long after feasting on the child. It broke something inside her, it tainted her morals she lived by as a beggar. Cicero had came to the conclusion as he stared at Gwyn, her eyes sweeping over the quivering woman's body the lack of compassion evident. A monster cared not for others, didn't love or show grief to strangers and in that mindset she found refuge. If she to was a monster she couldn't bring herself to care. Cicero held his eyes closed letting his head hang as a sigh left him. Gwyn was still. What little muscles she had were taunt. She was lost in thought, a smile curling her lips the slightest. "I didn't get sick?!" It was a harsh whisper, meant to be only heard by her but it most likely came out more excited. She flicked her eyes to Cicero giddy as a child being promised chocolate. "I didnt. Get. Sick!" Cicero grunted hoarsely pivoting where he stood to look back at the fire. He couldn't see the look in her eye. The amusement. Cicero knew the elf as innocent. And he would be lying if he didn't find that innocence as something he enjoyed. Something that made his blood boil. But now she was just like every other woman he spent his bed with. Boring. _________________________________________________ Gwyn saw him turn and fold his arms a grunt coming from his direction. Was he not amazed? This was something he had nagged her about. Nagged her to be healthy, strong, durable. But the only way to be any of that was to induce human blood. Gwyn's smile faded, soon being replaced with a flat expression. That's right. She needed to hate him. Gwyn drew her eyes back to the innkeeper lazily pondering how to clean the body up. For a second she peered around the inn, her eyes landed on large kegs behind the counter. Big enough to reach the ceiling. Four in total, three unsealed and one yet to be opened. She took a stepping stool situated near them and ascended. It took a few tries but she succeed in prying the lid off. A whiff of strong ale hit her making her mind real in distaste. It was unlike anything she smelled, the wheat mixed with the alcoholic aroma made her gag. However, she had never been too found of ale. She hoisted the woman over her shoulders just enough to slip her in the vat. Once her body slid into the liquid and slowly sank to the bottom only then did Gwyn seal the top. "How many times have you done that?" Cicero was quiet eerily so, like he was talking to himself. Gwyn stepped down a frown settling on her brows. "What do you mean?" Cicero walked further settling himself on the stool next to the bar "Cicero should know, only a skilled killer is as smart as that" he gestured to the body "most are-" he tapped his chin in thought "careless" he leaned forward on his elbows a smirk pulling his lips. Gwyn didn't know how to feel. Was she supposed to thankful for the... compliment? If you call it that. Or should she be angry. However, Cicero opened his mouth. A sneer lingering with it "but then again it's your instinct being a cold blooded, undying, Creature of The Night" Her fingers twitched. They digged into her palms. She wanted to strangle him, instead she turned away facing the vats of alcohol. "LOOK AT ME!" Cicero slammed his hands on the bar "I want to see the tears that pour from your lifeless eyes when I explain how funny it was to see you kill that child" it disgusted Gwyn how soft and warm his voice sounded. Like he didn't just get done yelling. Gwyn turned, lethargically not wanting to see the psychotic glint in his eye. "There, it wasn't that hard" he cooed letting his hand tap his chin. "I do have a few tips, when killing someone maybe you should drain them first. You know slit their wrists and hold a bucket under them" he shrugged sighing as he continued "but that's my opinion I'm not a monster" his eyes slid to hers. He knew how much that word hurt. And yet he didn't care. Gwyn shook, she was caving from within. She could finish it now, bite into his throbbing artery right next to his wind pipe. Gwyn was barely holding on. "You know you talk alot in your sleep" Cicero folded his hands under his chin his icy stare locking with her heated one. "Mostly you screamed, kept Cicero up all night" he rolled his eyes "even thought about slitting your throat but" he shrugged "was afraid you'd live. Cicero heard many things, things about...Molag Bal" he wagged his finger "tsk, tsk, tsk, should've told dear Cicero." Gwyn could feel body freeze, if she was living she would be holding her breath. "Dear Gwyn screamed about Molag Bal touching, claiming, ravaaaging" he scooted closer his sickening musk infiltrating Gwyn's nostrils. "Your just like the whores I kill after fucking" Cicero hissed. Gwyn was many things but never had she sold her body for a mere Septum. She reached across the bar, clenching Cicero's Motley tightly between her fingers. What Cicero underestimated about Gwyn was how much of that woman did she devour? He surely didn't pay attention nor did he know about the survival of a Daughter of Coldharbour. They were a different breed of Vampires. Gwyn hurled him over the bar making bottles crash to the floor in the process. Cicero's eyes grew as she twisted her fingers into his hair. She was going to drain him, devour his blood until he was limp on the ground fighting for air. Gwyn smirked. That would be too easy. She held his soft locks letting her hand that was buried in his clothes drop to the bar. Gwyn reared his head back a glint of fear bubbling in his orbs just before she slammed his face into the counter. Again. And again. And again. Till a splatter of hot blood slid down her cheek. She closed her eyes, inhaling the sweet scent before finding her voice once more. "Remember dear Cicero, you might be a killer, assassin if you will but I'm the pure embodiment of one. The Vampires, the Daughters of Coldharbour, were created to bring about floods of blood and heartache. You are nothing but a blink of an eye to me" Gwyn growled out as she stood soaked in blood above Cicero. His eyes lidded and hazy stared at her feet. But Divines forbid, that awful lopsided grin pulled at his mouth. It made her want to tear him limb from limb. Instead, she found satisfaction in hoisting him onto the bar. His face finally level with hers. "Damn your soul to the Void" Cicero hissed his voice dying when Gwyn closed the space between them. She plunged her teeth into his artery, feeling the pulse pounding at her tongue. The warm blood slithered down her throat coating it delightfully. Then he began to struggle. _________________________________________________ Cicero's voice coward down his throat when Gwyn sunk her teeth deep into his flesh. Blaring hot pain pulsated through his neck, like fire pokes. He wanted to scream, to reach for the knife at his waist but instead he whispered. Softly. Loud enough that only the void would hear. "To think your any different than an animal." He whimpered, each word causing him more pain. "A creature sick as you should be put down" his eyes rolled back "but Cicero can't help myself" he grabbed Gwyn holding on for dear life, embracing the cold fiend instead of pushing her away. What use would that be? She was stronger than him now, and a vampire, like her was like a man high on adrenaline. He felt her flinch, her quiver at his touch. Even if her senses came back he was too far gone. He could feel the frigid pull of the Void. Gwyn already sated her thirst, quenched it when she killed the woman but wanted to see the crazed Jester dead on the cobbled stone floor. Wanted to see his eyes dull, colorless, no life. She dug deeper, her nose planted in his red locks when the thirst quenching desire turned to pain. ________________________________________________ The blood seared her throat, it was as if she swallowed lava. Gwyn reared back a shrill shriek slipping her lips. "NO! FOOLISH CHILD!" the angry boom echoed in her mind as she collapsed to the floor. Searing pain etched into her back, leaving raw scratches in its wake. Gwyn cried out once more the pain equal to a day of lashing in the city's square. "IM SORRY! J-JUST STOP" she gaged in between words at the collecting cursed blood in her mallet. "This one needs to be alive child! Do not kill who helps you!" The voices spoke in Union, scalding her harshly. With one hand on her shoulder, touching the bloodied lashes, and the other splayed out on the stone beneath her for support she dared a glance to Cicero. Cicero, spread-eagle across the bar laid limp. His limbs dangling without movement. A silent pit patter of blood dripping from his fingers made Gwyn cringe. He was nothing but a dying corpse. When the pain dulled, just enough for her to stand her face paled. She didn't know this pale Imperial could get any whiter. His skin was sickly, almost transparent. Cicero's eyes hang open, drifting in and out of focus as he fought against his faltering consciousness. Gwyn held her side as she felt the wet sensation pool down her back. "Child, you must learn from your mistakes. Your pain will soon fade and the wounds will heal. But remember, the scars will always be there. A reminder." The faint womanly voice whispered. She nodded silently, giving the entity her attention. "Give him your blood child" Gwyn began to twist her face in disgust when she spoke again "dear, you have nothing else. This is the only way" Gwyn crept forward, slowly gripping his left arm. "Cicero can you hear me?" His eyes drifted lazily to her for a second before fluttering. "Hey!" She yelled now grasping both arms with a harsh grip. No response. "Shit! You better be glad the Voices like you!" She cursed to the air as she hurled him into her arms. Settling him haphazardly near the fire she bit into her arm. It was odd. When her blood touched her tongue a gag began to fight against Gwyn. Disgust coated her face, twisting it. When she drew enough blood she spat out the nauseating taste. As she propped Cicero on her lap she force fed him the deep red blood. Trapped in thought, she recognized the color. Yes, she knew what blood looked like. But this was different, too black. A shiver ran down her spine. Now she knew why it reminded her. A snarl stretched her lips, Molag Bal. In the back of her head she cursed him with a growl. Movement pulled Gwyn back. Cicero groaned his eyes momentarily flickering towards her before closing. "It worked" Gwyn whispered to herself in awe, a thousand ideas flashing through her mind before laughter stalled it. "Dear child, you amuse me. Yes, your blood has good properties. However, use it too much and you risk making another Night Stalker" Gwyn's blood churned. Him, being a Vampire. Quivers quaked through her body. That would be like letting the Oblivion Gates open on Nirn. _________________________________________________ Cicero woke with a grown. Sweat beading at his brow. His eyes flicked around, his heart thundering in his chest. Where is she? He remembered a fight. His blood being the outcome. Cicero's finger's weaved in fabric at the chill that over took him. Wait. Fabric? He rose the slightest, his head now pounding as he eyed what his fingers had become entangled with. Cicero was placed gently into a bed and covered with thick sheets. Fur even placed near his feet for added heat. His brows pulled. She meant to kill him. Why keep him alive? His hand wondered unconsciously to his neck to find the flesh that had been previously torn instead healed. "By Sithis!" Cicero whispered to the dark as he slid from the covers. Cicero was a assassin, a murderer, and a mortal. You can't be a mortal without fear. Cicero had taken upon himself a new fear, a fear that lingered near him day in and day out. As he crept into the inn a fire cackled sending dancing shadows across the floors and walls. He swallowed back harsh words as he stared at the back of a whispering Gwyn. "What do I call you?" Her voice was hushed but Cicero listened well. A deeper, darker voice hissed into the eerie darkness. **"Sithis"** the name drawn out into a growl. "Gwyn?!" Cicero yelped, his eyes wide. Maybe he was crazy? Maybe he hallucinating. Or he wasn't.


	5. Void

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So, I found a nice gem called Rich Text lol I'm learning as I go XD.

* * *

**-Previously-**

Gwyn stared at the slow fall of Cicero's chest. His breath finally steadying itself. Gwyn ran a hand through her hair relishing at whipping the sweat that beaded at her forehead. She had left her humanity behind, against her will of course. Gwyn almost forgotten what being cold had felt. She left her face twist as she hoisted the unconscious Imperial into her arms. _No,_ she thought. She knew what being cold was. She felt it around her like a noose waiting for it's wearer. A lingering death, looming. The lack of emotions, the distant feeling of wanting to just wake up from this horrible dream. She placed the Imperial onto the cushiony bed making sure his head doesn't loll uncomfortably to the side. Gwyn smirked _I wouldn't hear the end of it._ Her smile faded seeing the beautiful grin of the young girl. Her eyes so vibrant, full of life, so innocent. Gwyn clenched her eyes. Her bubbly laughter. The way she bounded to Gwyn after seeing her knight, in shinning armor slaughter the beast, saving her. Gwyn stumbled backwards, her foot catching the old wooden dresser. There was so much blood, so, so, so much. Gwyn felt her back slam against the drawers. A gag produced itself at the sight flashing behind her eyelids. Now, tears hot and red blurred her vision as she descended to the floor. _Monster! Your sick!_ Gwyn crashed her head against the wood relishing in the thick thud of her skull. _MONSTER! MONSTER! MONSTER!_ Gwyn flinched as the voice of a young girl screeched at her from every direction. Her voice twisting, to a erie gurgle of blood before dying out. A sob racking her body, her shoulders trembling at the restrain. Her throat began to close, collapse on itself. Gwyn's mimicking breath picked up, like it would when she was scared. When she was alive. Her head crashed harder. Again. Again. Each ending with a bone chilling crunch. She wasn't alive. Couldn't hold a child. Couldn't. Bring. Herself. To feel. A scream ripped from her throat resembling the same sound that day. The day she broke. The day she took a life of an innocent.

* * *

Gwyn didn't sleep, just sat. The drying blood caked on her face. The scratch marks healed. All that was left was the black tar, riddling her face. She tried to claw her eyes out, tried to flay her skin, tried. Tried. Tried. Her face twisted, her lips pulling back to keep another wail at bay. Gwyn folded on herself, head locked tightly between her knees as her hands coiled through her locks. As she rocked her whimpers sounding like a beaten dog began to die. Slowly. She imagined being cradled by her mother. A mother she didn't know. She could smell the deathly sweet nightshades as she angled her head into the crook of the woman's neck. Could almost feel the slow rocking of the woman as she pacified Gwyn. Gwyn began to relax. Her muscles no longer straining. The woman started to hum, the eeriely memorizing tone hypnotizing Gwyn. Soon, unconsciously Gwyn mimicked her. Trying to hold the tune close to her, memorizing it as she sang it. _"_ Mother, sweet mother." Gwyn raised her head, eyes closed as she Bagan singing the tone. A familiar tone. Almost as if she grew up to the small hums, and chants of the song. "Send your child unto me for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear" Gwyn's legs unraveled themselves until she stood. "Gather your bones" she began swinging and twirling slowly to the tone drifting in her head. "Gather your hearts, your skull, and tomes" the tone came to erupt end. Leaving Gwyn confused, she opened her eyes. For a split second, a dress flourished. A pale purple, flowing. Someone ran past the door. Before Gwyn could move a foot the tune picked up again. The beautiful pitch dancing in the dark drifted to Gwyn. " _Gather all to me. Bring your circle of lights, in the dead of night. At your low you come to me"_ Gwyn's eyes bulged. The voice, that hummed so sweetly, so serene found her here, singing just a little further. " _Sweet child, my dear, my Listener, come to me. Let my bosom comfort you, let my cold embrace give you warmth"_ Gwyn found herself gliding forward, too entranced by the voice to be wary. A fire cackled in the middle of the room. It's embers floating into the air like molten gold. Gwyn's brow scrunched, where was the woman. Her heart dropped suddenly at the realization. She was breaking, crazy. Gwyn began to turn when a flutter of purple caught her eye. Her head snapped back at neck brake speed. A woman perhaps, two feet taller then her stood next to the fire. A glow of darkness settled around her, almost as if she drew the void to her. Her ebony skin matched Gwyn's along with the unmistakable point of the ears. Gwyn felt the prickle of tears as they locked eyes. Her face slightly gaunt but made beautifully. Carved from gorgeous marble. Her eyes a vibrant Ruby flickered ominously as she gazed back. Her long blinding white hair flowing down her back while the other half pulled back into a tight bun at the back of her head. Gwyn's knees began to tremble, giving out. As she crumpled, the woman danced across the cobble stone floor. Her feet strangely quiet. The purple dress softened in the glow of the flames behind her. Silk, it had to be. The woman bent down at her waist. Her smile stretching to her eyes. Those eyes. A weep fumbled from her lips. " _Shh, shh sweet, sweet child"_ The Dunmer woman softly gripped her chin. Soft. Her hand was feather soft. She angled Gwyn's face upwards. The fire leaving a heavenly glow behind the woman. " _Im here sweet child"_ Gwyn closed her eyes, tears falling "I'm lost, broken" the woman's shushed Gwyn as she whipped bloody tears from her cheek. " _I held you that night, against my bossom. So beautiful"._ The woman knelt down infront of Gwyn, wrapping Gwyn in her tight embrace. Gwyn, at that moment was mortal. Alive. Whole. Her cries shaking her body as the woman coiled her slender arms around her. " _Your cries, sounded so"_ the woman paused " _Angelic, entrancing. My little Corda"_ the woman combed through Gwyn's hair. Her fingers finding the taunt knots and unraveling them. " _Do you remember the Void?"_ The woman pulled back the slightest to gaze down at Gwyn. Gwyn felt so small under her stare. Like a child. Her puzzled look gave the woman the answer she was looking for. She nodded, understanding somehow. " _You were so small when I took you and your siblings to the Void"_ she twirled Gwyn's locks with her finger. " _so tiny, that tune. You know it because as I cradled you in the embrace of Sithis Invoker's of the Black Sacrament called for my love. My mercy. For Sithis"_ Gwyn smiled, a unsure but genuine smile. "Who are you?" Gwyn locked eyes with the phantom woman. The woman chuckled. She knew that laughter. Heard it when she was helping Cicero. " _Im the Night Mother, the Unholy Matron"._ She swiped Gwyn's hair back, straightening it and producing with a flick of her wrist a Nightshade. She spoke sweetly as she placed the flower into Gwyn's hair " _Severa Magia, your mother"_ she tilted her head while she inspected Gwyn's hair.

* * *

A mother?! Gwyn's heart lept. Figuratively of course. She pulled the slender woman into a bone crushing hug, laughing at the fact the power and strength behind Gwyn didn't break the woman. " _I must go sweet child, back to the Void"_ she whispered into Gwyn's hair, like it was a curse. Couldn't speak too loud about it. Gwyn clenched harder. "No, don't go. I need you." Gwyn's voice began to tremble, the tell tale sign of her throat clenching down as she looked over her mother with panic. But, the woman stared back with grace nothing but calm. " _Don't fret, I'm always here"_ her well glossed hand spread across her skull as she flourished her other arm outwards. Gwyn nodded, tears falling anew as she stood. Gwyn stared in awe as she seemingly vanished into the cackling fire " _Always with my sweet, sweet Corda"_ her voice hummed with honey somewhere deep in her mind.

* * *

**Present**

Gwyn found herself curled up near the fire her legs twisted like branches together as she stared at the almost fluid motions of the fire. It's light, glow made shadows dance gracefully across the walls. Even in the dark, she felt warm. Not because of the burning wood in the fireplace. No. Because, she had a place to be. A mother. A small smile slipped across her lips. **"Corda"** The voice unlike her Mother called to her, boomed to her. Gwyn found herself sweeping her molten orbs across the shadows. Searching. "She talked about you, Severa. Mother". Gwyn glanced around her body angled to the darkness behind her. " **Yes, The Unholy Matron. She shares the Void with me and your siblings".** His voice bounced off every wall, from every corner. Every darken shadows shared his voice. "What are you?" A deep chuckle pierced the silence. " **The Void. Darkness incarnate. Death. The Dread Lord. A Patron, the whisper behind The Unholy Matron's will".** The fire Bagan to flicker, just the slightest. "What do I call you? Gwyn asked overwhelmed by the many names. A silence befell her, leaving her to listen intently for his next words. Only to hear soft foot falls. They were trying to be silent. As her head began to swivel, just the slightest she heard it. Not in the confines of her mind, but in reality. " **SITHIS"** the voice growled, it too had noticed the intruder that lingered in the shadows. "Gwyn?!" Cicero yelped his eyes wide in disbelief.

* * *

Gwyn's head swiveled to peer over her shoulder. Her face flat and a cold stone expression hiding her annoyance of the rude interruption. Cicero stumbled forward more, his face finally holding the little color he had. His eyes wide with fear. Fear? Gwyn inhaled, taking in his scent that he wafted off himself in waves. Sweet Rolls, a hint of parchment paper, Iron. Her nose wrinkled. She didn't enjoy the old decaying smell of dried blood. But somewhere mixed like batter was the fear. It was the milk that held the flour and eggs together. It mixed deliciously. A smirk stretched her bloodied lips. Her sharp, white pearls glowing in the eerie dark. "Your awake" she paused standing "I thought I killed you" she let her words sink into his skin alike her teeth where mere hours ago. His face twisted. Confusion? That wasn't the reaction she wanted. "What was that?" He half shouted his hands flailing around mindlessly. His eyes holding a feverish madness. "What was what?" Gwyn's face fell into a deceitful confusion. "The voice, the booming VOICE!" he began to get closer hir hair alit as the glow of the dying fire found him. A voice drifted in her mind, Severa. " _Sweet Cicero must not know yet. In due time, in due time"_ Gwyn couldn't agree more, after what happened he would merely think her crazed. "It's the blood lost Cicero, nothing more" she crossed her arms as she stared at the madman.

* * *

His eyes slowly dragged to her face. The thick, caked lines of blood. The blood rimming her molten eyes. Something was off. He could FEEL it. Cicero's eyes slited as he drew closer. His stare making Gwyn shift in uneasy. "Your lying" his tongue was pointed. He had every right.Blood drained. Body broken. But some how by the grace of Sithis this woman saved him. How? Gwyn's eyes narrowed "I am not, your mad Cicero. Crazy" Her voice trembled with anger. Cicero didn't want to get on her bad side, but then again he enjoyed seeing the fire in her eyes relight. Cicero's head flung backwards as a contagious laughter bursted from him. "Cicero! Crazy!" He bent over his hair hanging in sweaty tendrils. "Now that's madness"

* * *

His voice dropped to a gravely hoarse rasp. It was unnerving. Gwyn rushed forward, pushing past his cold stare. "Where are you going?" Cicero growled his hand clenching around her wrist. His fiery hand colliding with the bitter ice of her skin. "Away from you" her teeth grinded together "when I look at you, all I see is food that I can't devour" her harsh words bit through the thick air. She wasn't wrong. A meat bag, that if she even tried to taste would burn her insides. Gwyn ripped her arm from him rushing into the eerie darkness behind them. As she sat in the furthest corner, cloaked by the shadows she eyeballed Cicero. His swaying form, his hanging head, and his annoying mumbling. Praying? It sounded like it. Gwyn strained her hearing, listening intently. "Sweet mother, sweet mother send your children unto me for the sins of the unworthy must be baptized in blood and fear" Gwyn's eyes grew, her mouth dropped. How did he? His cold stare meant Gwyn's. Of course, he could see her eyes in the dark. A smirk, a knowing one at that stretched across his face. "Well" he hissed out luring her from her corner with a waggle of his index finger in a 'cone hither' movement before disappearing around a corner. He slinked back into the bedroom. Did he want her to follow. Her eyes hardened as she stood. What was this Jester planning?


	6. Sugar Sweet Lies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This isn't really a smut, but it does drift there for a small fraction. There will be more graphic smut scenarios later but I'm just testing the waters for now. Never done anything really smut like so sorry if it's not as good ¯\\_༼ ಥ ‿ ಥ ༽_/¯

Gwyn stalked towards the doorway. The fire dying completely. It's red embers glowing in the dark the only remembrance of the fire. "Cicero?!" Gwyn's voice echoed in the Void, bouncing from wall to wall with no answer. She was only a few feet from the door when Gwyn let her eyes sharpen. Her senses heighten. It was dark, too dark for a normal mortal to see well enough. Her eyes dilated, allowing her to see more effortlessly. As her gaze swiped across the room she noted no presence. No Cicero. Her eyebrows narrowed. She hesitantly walked forward, inhaling the slightest. As his scent, strong and very much there hit her nose it was too late. His arms tightened around her neck, holding her tight. Not enough to strangle. Gwyn snarled "Cicero" she warned her hiss making his chest heave with laughter. "Your hiding something from Cicero" he whispered close to her ear making a treacherous tremor rack down her spine. " It is none of your business what I do in my spare time" Gwyn growled lacing her clawed fingers into his arm, clenching down harshly.

* * *

Cicero cringed, surly crescent marks would be left. He was sure, somewhere in his fevered dream he heard it. The sweet singing of a woman, the Black Sacrament. It lulled him to consciousness, brought him from his sleep. Its pitch holding such beauty and love he cherished it's lyrics. However, it's words so sacred couldn't have came from her mouth. He would know if one of his sisters were in his presence. Gwyn's twitch brought Cicero back to reality. Resulting in coiling harder around her neck. How dare she. How dare this treacherous woman let his Unholy Matron's words roll from her blasphemous mouth.

* * *

"How do you know that song?" Cicero growled out. His patience wilting. "I. Don't. Know" Gwyn yelped as Cicero's arm snapped her head backwards, making her gaze snap to his. "LIAR!" Cicero whirled her around only to cast her away from him. Gwyn fell backwards, her feet sliding from under her. For seconds she felt air whiz by her until her spine connected with the footboard. A scream bursted through her chapped lips as she watched her flower gracefully float to the floor. Her body was on fire, pulsating at the site of the pain. Gwyn clawed herself on her stomach a yelp catching in her throat as she writhed to much. "You defile her name! Defile her words! Defile her embodiment!" She pulls herself from the bed, bent over in agony only to be slammed back down. "A woman as sick and ignorant as you shouldn't have the Unholy Matron's song on her tongue!" Cicero's finger's digged into Gwyn's hips with a bruising grip as he shadowed her body with his own. Gwyn slowly and surly let her fingers slide from out under her. "A woman like you has only one fulfilment" his words fell out of his mouth in sickening waves. His hips pushed into her own as he spoke into her neck "Usually I wait for the woman to die first, but it's so much fun to watch the fear in their eyes" Cicero groaned his fingers clenching and unclenching around her hips. Enough of this. Gwyn swung her arm out, the sting of her muscles making her face contort but it wasn't in vain. Her fingers dug into his hair. Twisting and burying her digits deep in Cicero's locks. She pulled her arm downward dragging his head with it. Cicero's hold faltered the slightest as he gave out a groan giving her enough time to slip from under him. "All of this because you think I'm a lier?!" Gwyn's breath came out shaky and trembling. Cicero's erie chuckle made Gwyn stiffen. His hands twisting in the covers as he slowly raised up. "Your a assassin, sent to kill me" he swung around a ebony blade gripped in his fist. First, she thought he missed merely a warning. Gwyn was wrong. A gash spread open, thick and deadly right above her breast. It's depth proving to be cautious as the blood seeped out making the shirt stick to her skin.

* * *

Gwyn pounced. Knocked the lithe form against the bed, his breath coming out in a short gasp. "I'm not some assassin, if I was I would've killed you in your sleep" Gwyn spoke through clenched teeth as she straddled his dazed form. If Gwyn killed him she would be punished. But if she didn't fight she would be dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. She snarled trying to weigh her chances while struggling with the angry Madman. Her time was running out, she had to distract him. Just enough to subdue him.

* * *

Cicero was a paranoid man. This Gwyn knew. But she knew him more than he thought, he was driven by his Lust. A prisoner to his carnal pleasures. Gwyn gripped Cicero's knife wielding hand wrestling with him till she finally ripped the dagger from his grasp. "I'll tell you whatever you want but you have to be" Gwyn sent the knife swirling through the air letting it clatter In a far darkened corner before turning back to the man under her. Her options were small, can't drain him, can't kill him. She was only left with one and her chest wouldn't wait. It's slick blood already soaking her stomach. Gwyn curled her left hand into Cicero's sweat saturated locks "you'll have to be cooperative" she wrenched his head back as her hips grounded into his. Cicero's eyes rolled, his breathing picking up. It was working better than she thought. "And maybe" she lowered herself against his chest Gwyn's honeyed words like music to his ears "we can have fun with this" Gwyn drew her tongue across the shell of his ear earning a shiver.

* * *

He was too deep to pull away now, she hooked him, poisoned him with her body and dragged him under the tidal wave only to drown him. Cicero, he knew though. Knew that she was using her unholy, ravishing body to convince Cicero to spare her. He thought about letting her fuck him, let her live long enough to pleasure him. Only to take away her hope at the last second. Take the knife stored under his pillow. Oh yes. He had ran in here prepared. His innocent minx didn't think twice when she followed him. Didn't think Cicero was prepared. But he was, more than poor Gwyn was. It is laughable to watch those gears twist and turn, grinding against each other simply trying to form a plan out of this one. He had to hold his laugh, didn't want to spoil the fun. "You think this is going to work?" Cicero groaned out meeting her thrusts as his hands held tightly to her hips. Her face almost faltered. Almost slipped into terror. And Cicero caught it, but she was quick to pull a lopsided smirk. "I might have to try harder then" Cicero's fingers twitch at her hips. Maybe he will wait just a little longer.

* * *

Gwyn's vision started to become blotchy. Just the slightest. Tiny black dots her and there, not enough to be worrying but her time was running out and it seemed Cicero was catching on. Gwyn's fingers worked nimbly as she untied her cotton shirt welcoming the cold air that blew against her damp skin. This had to work. "Come on now, I thought you liked seeing me covered in blood" Gwyn left Cicero to cup her modest chest. Pinching her nipples the slightest. She felt like she could drown in his stare. His orbs devoured by the abyss. She had to hide then cringe that crept up her spine at his touch. By all means he wasn't careful. His touch was brutal, demanding, uncaring just like the monster she thought he was. He shifted under her, sitting up to lap at the blood that ran down the peak of her bosom. "I thought Cicero's Gwyn was more innocent than this" his eyes flickered upwards staring at the gasping woman. She hated to admit. Hated to say she enjoyed his hungry stare. Cicero twined his arms around her waist pushing her groin against his. It was getting harder to think, even harder to talk. She closed her eyes a bashful moan slipping her lips. Why couldn't she just kill him. Save her the emotions of caring. A pain struck through her chest, blossomed like a forest fire down her spine. "Look at me" Cicero growled his finger buried deep into the gash above her breast. It took the restraint of the Divines to keep her from gorging on his blood that hammered in her ears. Just a little longer.

* * *

It was a blur. Maybe she lost too much blood. It did drench her pants. Her pants that were thrown across the room, torn from her ebony skin by harsh hands. She wanted to drown the defiling moans. Hated that with each thrust from Cicero as he plunged deep made her core coil with need. "Harder!" Gwyn stuttered out lifting her abused legs up to wrap around his thrusting hips. Why did she like this? She should be killing him. Watching the life leave his soulless eyes. Gwyn made a weak glance to her right, her vision slowly betraying her, a vase stocky and unappealing sat on the night stand. Gwyn howled feeling Cicero pound against a particular spot. This was difficult. Her mind became hazy, hard to think.

* * *

Cicero watched as her eyes flickered to the end table. Knew what she was planning. He gripped the back of her knees, thrusting at a angle that left her mind swirling. A moan ripped through his chest, he could kill her, take the knife she was laying on. Such a easy target, laying under him, her blood coating them. His head rolled backwards when Gwyn clenched down on his cock. If he was going to do kill her, he had to do it now. Cicero leaned forward. Pressing her knees to her chest as he placed his hands onto the pillow. Only a few more inches. Gwyn raised forward, a dull empty haze swirling through her glowing orbs. She captured him, drew him in as hot pleasure contorted her face. He couldn't do it. Cicero slumped forward, his face planted firmly against her breasts as she pushed him over the edge. The blaring white bursting behind his eyelids, dragging him under.

* * *

Gwyn felt shameful. Lost her innocence to a mad man. _But why did it feel so right?_ She casted her thoughts to the Void. She was dying, merely just blood loss talking. She felt Cicero pull away from her, almost admiring her. "Your dying" his voice was a whisper, too far away. Gwyn couldn't move, her arms fell at her side. Limp. Her vision so.... Dark. Vampires were resilient, but she was new and weak. Gwyn felt his hands fall upon her jaw. Cupping her face softly. Was she hallucinating? She felt his warmth envelope her again, a dying embrace. How silly. She wanted to laugh, but the strength had seeped out of her and into the bed in the shape of dark red pools. "Drink" it was a mumble, so distant. Gwyn felt it, could smell the Nightshade. She was slipping away. A familiar voice drifted like a lullaby towards her. " _Not yet child"_ the woman spoke, the words so easy to say, so calm. A touch gentle and alien to Gwyn blossomed at her lips. Gwyn tried to focus on who it was, was intent on finding the culprit when she already knew who he was. She just couldn't comprehend what bared done onto her mouth. A taste gripped her, shook the death from her shoulders like dust.

* * *

Blood.


	7. Taljed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taljed= to see/ Dunmer language. It's a fan based language so if you want to read up on it you can. Found it on Casual Elder Scrolls Wiki. I will also utilize Gaelic Language here and there. I'm sorry if it looks messy or horrible, it's not my "native" or learned language. Sorry (-_-;)
> 
> The song I refer to in the story is Aisling's song. You can find it in YouTube with lyrics and translation. Enjoy!

**I was blind, but know I'm found. Like a babe, I can see once again. With fresh eyes, blurred by hate no more.**

* * *

Those eyes. So dull, glossed with death. The burning embers dying in her orbs. Splayed out before him, her hair spread out in a unholy web contrasting the white cotton of the pillow. Almost divine. His fingers coiled around the knife, the cold ebony making his heated skin prickle. Why couldn't she just look away? Her eyes bore into his, her undying soul flickering. A silent beg. Blood red tears pooled at her water line. Cicero, never had a problem before. Sliding the knife into their heart as he watched the soul seep from their body. Cicero sat back onto his thighs as he regarded her, his mind swirling with a haze. Sweat beaded at his brow. If he kept her alive she would only stab him in the back. He sighed as he let his hand cup her face the icy feeling creeping to his fingers. A draft of air sweeped past him, Cicero's hair drifting in the brisk gust. A frown of confusion pulled at his brows as he whisked around. With his torso angled he looked over his shoulder. Hushed whispers, faint and unwilling to speak any louder danced around him. Cicero's eyes searched the room. Nothing. Or so he thought until he glanced at the floor. A stupid coincidence. Possibly. Or a sign. A Nightshade bathed in darkness sat still at the edge of the bed. It's petals frozen in time dewed with pelts of black liquid. Cicero sucked in a gasp as flashes, visions, memories. A young Dunmer woman clothed in dark tattered silken dress danced with grace in shallow water. A Lake darker than the Void. Her eyes glowed with mirth. A spark of innocence glistened in her eyes as the sun beamed behind her. Her voice carried over the disturbed water as she twirled and spun her dress swirling with her. 

_You must go where I cannot~_ her voice floated cheerfully through the air despite the gloom tone of the song. 

_Pangur Bán Pangur Bán~ Níl sa saol seo ach ceo~is ní bheimid beo ach seal beag gearr~ Pangur Bán Pangur Bán~_ the beautiful Dunmer spun her arms raised high into the air, fingers long and delicate spread wide as the speckles of Void water speckled the floral around her. Her voice drifted off to a sweet hum. The sight left him breathless. She stole the features of the Night Mother, when she breathed the same air as the living. Cicero wanted to join the woman in her merry dance, twirl with her elegant whirl of her lithe body, listen to the magnificent language that fell from her mouth in waves of delicate honey. _"Corda_ _"_ It was a whisper, pacifying hum of a woman. Then the vision flickered, melt away as a rain drop would roll down the glass pane.

* * *

Cicero blinked, awe written on his pale face only to have it drop. Gwyn laid beneath him. Her eyes lidded and starring at him. Or merely through him. Her lips slowly turning blue. Cicero fumbled, what he seen wasn't in vain. This was a sign from Sithis. Cicero would be mad if he didn't comply. Hurriedly Cicero took the dagger in his hand the deja vu washing over him momentarily before he slashed a sloppy cut at his wrist. The blood poured immediately from his wound, he must've hit a artery. Cicero paled. Would he sacrifice his life for her? No. For Sithis? Yes. Using his other hand he pried Gwyn's mouth open. Like a river, the blood slithered smoothly into her maul.

* * *

As the blood seeped into her throat, down into her esophagus, her wounds began to seal. First, the veins healed. Then the muscle. It sewed and pulled itself together. Lastly, the skin seemed to creep together. Overlapping and joining together to seal the once deep wound. Her eyes now gaining it's luster and forsaking it's dull haze. Cicero would not let Gwyn die, not if Sithis, the Void shown him such glorious visions. Cicero deep into thought pulled his arm back and swaddled it against his chest subconsciously. The haunting voice he had heard had whispered something, a name? "Corda" he whispered it, hoping if he spoke it silently he would remember it.

* * *

Gwyn sprang up, the iron taste still fresh in her tongue. How was she alive! Naked she threw herself into the ground, a bewildered and terrified look gracing her features. She was waiting for the pain, the torturous searing but it never came. "Why?" She spoke wiping her mouth with back of her hand. If only she could wipe the enthralling taste from her mouth. It was unlike any other. It held a uniqueness to it she couldn't pin down. "Cicero has his reasons" his voice didn't uphold the same joy of a mad man as before. His words were hoarse and raspy, each syllable made a bolt of electricity shoot down her spine. Gwyn watched from the floor, legs pulled to her chest as Cicero pulled his clothes on. His movements slow and lethargic as he gritted his teeth together pushing the pain away. "You made it too deep" Gwyn spoke, her tongue trapped between her sharpened teeth as a reminder. He's not your food, even if he smells like the best meal a starving begger could have. Correction, a undead creature could have. The chill in the room was unknowing to Gwyn as she stood. Her body held small scattered scars of her mortal life. Each one a story, wether it small or merely a adventure.

* * *

With weak legs she hobbled towards Cicero. He had now sat on the edge of the bed his back towards the small elf as he regarded something in his hands. "I can help" Gwyn squeaked out while she crept to his side. He was disheveled. Cicero barely buttoned his Motley. The cloth hang loose at his sides, blood smeared across his chest in attempt to button the shirt. Gwyn rounded infront of him, concern lathered like sticky tar across her face. His eyes were distant and bleak as he stared motionless at his hands. Cicero's hands dripped with red liquor as his fatal cut smeared and flowed like a water spout. Gwyn's mouth opened about to spew on about how he shouldn't have went so deep or if he was so skilled with a blade maybe he wouldn't have hit a major vein. However, she couldn't produce the words. Found it difficult when she stared at a enchanting flower. The flower her mother gave her. Even as the blood ran from the veins in Cicero's wrist the Nightshade never tinted red. Softly. Gwyn gripped the flower, it's weight surprising her. It's weight resembled a baby rabbit, not to heavy but not too light. Gwyn sat down the flower next to Cicero as she took his hands into her own. "You should've been more careful" Gwyn spoke her voice just above a whisper as she took the thin sheets on the bed and began pressing them against his wound. Cicero in a daze lifted his head, his hair ragged and knotted. "If I hadn't hit a artery, you would be dead" Gwyn lifted her eyes instinctively when Cicero hadn't mentioned himself when he talked.

* * *

Maybe it was the blood loss. It had to be that. Gwyn raced about nude as a babe trying to find simple items to sew his wound together. Finally with needle and thread she kneeled infront of Cicero and treated his wound. Gwyn's mind, a fickle thing. It never stopped it's constant flicker of Cicero's expression. His eyes never looked so sane, so captivating. So alive. Her mind coiled back when she cut the end of the thread. "That should stop the blood flow" Gwyn eyed it making sure the cut didn't bead up with new blood. When it didn't she lead the dazed Imperial through the inn and sat him on a chair. As she promised a quick return Gwyn scampered off to find a bath. It was common sense to have a bath in a inn, especially in the cold month. If not for the travelers then for the innkeeper.

* * *

Gwyn, a self proclaimed monster. Found herself crowding around a crazed Imperial like a mother hen. Not even troubled about her naked body. The rest of the night and some of the morning was Gwyn taking care of the poor Jester. Cleaning. Dressing. Brushing his hair. Gwyn began to find it difficult to kill this man every second she groomed him.

* * *

A immortal Night Stalker and her crazed, Jester. 


	8. Murderer

The two odd bunch left the inn after the cozy cottage was ransacked for all the important things. No one would find the old crone's body for a good week. When it's bloated and grey. Her body probably wouldn't be recognizable. A disgusting, foul, Nord soup. How funny would be the face of the unfortunate when they poured the Ale into their mug. Gwyn found herself chuckling before she imagined the rank stench. She stopped herself, pulling her lips in a thin line as her nose wrinkled. She doesn't want to think about that.

* * *

Gwyn shuffled herself in her spot near Cicero as he directed the horses. The two mares grew impatient with the constant slapping of the reigns as Cicero had been doing for the last fifteen minutes. "You know they won't go any faster with the way your treating them" Gwyn huffed as she crossed her arms across her chest. "Cicero doesn't care! These stupid horses are going to make Cicero late!" Cicero stared ahead blankly, a small shimmer of terror in his amber eyes. Cicero never told her where he was going. Or where his destination was. Gwyn never questioned him until now, until she finally realized she knew hardly anything about this mad man. A mad man she come to enjoy. "What would 'we' be late for?" She quizzed leaning back to admire the sunset. It's beautiful pink and orange colors dusted the sky. "A family reunion of course!" His voice squealed unexpectedly through the peaceful silence. A family reunion? Him, having family was quite.... difficult to imagine. "You, have a family?" Gwyn questioned a quirk to her eyebrow. Bullshit, she thought. No way he had any family that was alive. His giddy laughter made Cicero's shoulders tremble. "Silly Gwyn not REAL family! Their.." he paused his face contorted in thought.

* * *

Cicero was torn. Should he tell the sweet Dunmer? She sat next to him all the compliant, blissfully unaware of the true assassin next to her. She knew he was a killer but she didn't know he belonged to a group of them. That their was more worse or equal to his unhinged life style. Cicero shook his head. "They're not Cicero's family" he started gazing at Gwyn from the corner of his eye. She had a air of suspicion, but didn't voice it verbally. "Just a bunch of harmless mercenaries. Some are too stupid. Their nothing to worry your pretty head over my Gwyn" he shot her a crooked grin seeing the suspicion slowly drain away. Cicero knew little about his Gwyn, and couldn't risk telling her all of his dirty little secrets.

* * *

Gwyn plucked at the loose strings at the hem of her shirt. She knew he was lying, saw his forced grin. She might not know his background but she could pick his lies as easily as picking Nightshades. Gwyn leaned back her long fingers spread across her thighs. "I was a beggar" she spoke her eyes watching the clouds twirl in the sky. Heavy with rain. Cicero turned to look at her, Gwyn was silent until now. "I assume I was born in Morrowind" she chuckled catching a wisp of hair that blew in the wind. Cicero didn't have to say anything. His confused features pulled at his eyebrows. Gwyn shook her head a sad smile pulling at her lips. "I didn't know my parents" it was the truth. Since last night she didn't know where she came from. Shit, thought the ground gave birth to her. She fought a rising giggle. Even now she doesn't remember anything of her heritage or her family. Just a black ink splatter where Gwyn's memories should be. "Did Gwyn have a house name?" Cicero spoke, every once in awhile glancing over to her to watch her speak.

* * *

Cicero was. Speechless. Was the sun even shining anymore? Gwyn, even with her darkened skin glowed with a eerie hue. It was mind numbing. As she spoke about her past she seemed to not dwell on her immortal life and drifted to a more simpler time. Her voice soft and sweet. Her angelic hair danced with the wind that continued to pick up with each passing second. Cicero tore his eyes away, deciding it would be best not to take his attention from the mares. It was hard. Gwyn became a comfort for him, something to pull him to reality. "Cicero?" Cicero jerked the reigns close to his chest, balling them into his fists as he squeaked in surprise. Gwyn laughed, her laughter the sound of gentle bells.

* * *

"Silly Jester" she giggled holding her stomach. "It's going to rain" Gwyn tilted her head upwards, closing her eyes. "I can smell it" the musky air hang heavy. It was Winter, always raining. Gwyn's eyes fluttered close. The musky moist air clogged with flora. The Mountain Flowers bringing in a delicate smell. Gwyn inhaled enjoying the sweet scents that lingered around her. "Are you alone?" Gwyn's fingers linked together harshly, fidgeting. "Cicero is sorry" Gwyn clenched her eyes closed as she tamned her breath. She was alone. Was always alone. Never traveled with no one, talked with no one. A ghost. One that was seen but never heard. She was still alone. Save for the voices. "Cicero was alone for so long" Gwyn felt the warm soft hands of Cicero's twine with hers. "Until Cicero meant Gwyn. Cicero thought Gwyn was another thief, using Cicero's apathy to hurt him" Gwyn heard Cicero chuckle next her. "Cicero was wrong. Cicero's dear Gwyn is similar. Alone" Gwyn could hear the sorrow in his voice. The rasp quiet and heartbroken. She opened her eyes, just a sliver. Cicero stared ahead his face aloof. A sad shell of a man. Gwyn clenched his hand loving the warmth he gave. " _Poor Cicero, sweet Cicero"_ The sing song voice whispered with empathy. "Your not alone now" Gwyn raised his hand to her lips "we will always be with you" she spoke the words against his skin before placing a gentle kiss against it. His sickening sweet musk of Sweet Rolls and Parchment no longer overwhelming. Cicero gazed at Gwyn, his eyes enlarged. A secret promise whispered through a vessel, quelling the sorrow that corroded his ebony heart. "STOP!" liquid ice chilled Gwyn's blood.

* * *

Why didn't she smell them? Gwyn swiveled her head. Her eyes landed on men. Bandits. Mud coated their skin, it's musky scent masking their fowl intent. Gwyn snarled. Their weapons drawn, Silver swords brandished in the setting Sun. Four men and one taller male. Their features hard to discern past the caked mud. "ELF! OFF THE WAGON!" They didn't wait for Gwyn to move instead the mud clotted men rushed forward. The one that screamed orders held a morbid grin. His teeth yellow and rotten. His muscles rippled under the dirt. He was the leader. Gwyn felt the grimy hands of the men grapple her forearm. That shook her from her thoughts. Gwyn ripped her arm towards her.

* * *

Cicero was stunned. Where had they came from? The forest was thick with bushes and floral but heavy with snow. Both would've seen them hiding on the forest floor with their color choice. Magic. They must have a spell caster in their midst. Then a tug pulled on Cicero. Gwyn still coiled her fingers between his. The tug came from the bandits. Sithis help us.

* * *

Another hand gripped her pulling her close to slipping off the wagon. The mares bucked against the men. Their eyes white in fear. They were going to run. Gwyn's mock breath grew heavy, each empty breath came out shaky and full of adrenaline. Gwyn pulled her arms once again as she bent down catching the man's arm between her teeth. The crunching of skin and muscles almost made her eyes roll in delight. "Bitch bit me!" The male reared back holding his wounded arm against his chest. Gwyn smiled, her lips stretched in a wicked grin. The blood dripping lethargically down her sharpened teeth. She collected the liquid, swirling it in her mouth before collecting it and spiting it out like venom. The man howled as he fought to wipe the blood "BITCH!" Gwyn was now crouching as she backed away, her glowing eyes darting in the dark between each horrified man. The horses screeched in horror, their heads rearing at the stench of blood. Where was Cicero? Gwyn had backed far enough where she should've been up against him. She couldn't risk a look, too involved in the prowling men that circled her. "She's a Nightstalker sir I know it!" The injured man spoke, a twisted frown plastered on his lips. Gwyn was out of options. If she left she would show weakness. If she stayed she would be out numbered. Her features grim. Cicero left. A cry bubbled. Gwyn was going to be brutally cut to pieces but not before she was beaten and raped. Gwyn's hands were slick with sweat as she tightened them to fists. She needed a distraction.

* * *

How long could her legs hold her? How long before they give? Gwyn lept and ran through the snow covered forest. Quiet except for the echoing screams. The horses were a stupid idea. They would need them in the long run, but with no Cicero there was only one way. Gwyn collapsed. Bloody tears tainting her cheeks. She couldn't run no more. Her calfs burning in the exerted use. Her chest squeezing at her lungs. She felt like she was turning all over again. Echos became closer. Just behind her. Gwyn stood tossing her head from side to side, gauging her options. She couldn't run no more. She looked to the sky. The clouds blocked the moon. How long had she been running? How long had she distracted the men? Her mouth dropped in realization. She WAS the distraction. Gwyn digged into her tongue to keep the rage from forming into a roar. She's been used. Again. Gwyn used the anger to hook her fingers into the bark of a fairly large tree. It's limbs thick enough to hold her weight. With a new found rage she scaled the tree ignoring the blood that trickled down her index finger and the scream in the distance. The scream that sounded awfully familiar, only if she would listen.

* * *

Cicero clawed onto his stomach, his back searing with blossoming pain. "Where is she?!" **CRUNCH!** Another rib broken. Cicero rolled over sucking in a agonizing breath. "Cicero didn't see her pas-" the leader dug his boot into Cicero's chest basking in the blood that rippled past his foot. "TALK NORMAL YOU CRAZY BASTARD! TELL ME WHERE SHE IS!" the man landed a boot into Cicero's knee. The crunch that reverberated against the trees sounded obscene. Cicero leaned his head back biting a howl instead a laughter bubbled out. His giggle turned into a mad babble of hysteria. "CICERO CRAZY!" he sat up as much as his broken ribs would allow. With blood coating his taste buds Cicero hissed " _Now thats madnesss"_ he chuckled once more before the man approached. The man leaned down a smile molded into the dirt. His hair a greasy blonde hang in his face. "Once we find her, and we will. I'll FUCK her till her insides pour blood. And I'll make you watch" his voice full of pride. Cicero snarled, blood tainting his teeth "May The Dread Father rip you limb from limb in the Void" Cicero spit those words like they were poison on his tongue. However, the man only chuckled. Laughed like it was the best joke he ever heard. "Kill him." 


	9. Bad Omen

Gwyn leaned against the tree. Her mouth hang open as she gathered her thoughts. She was surrounded. The men gathered around her like wolfs devouring a lamb. "She couldn't have gotten far! Keep an eye open for her tracks" the voice was below her. It made her skin crawl with anxiety. "But it's too dark!" A more gruff voice replied annoyance edging the syllables. Metal slid against metal before there was a gaged scream. Gwyn clenched the tree as she peered down. The scent hit her nostrils before she saw the body. It's head missing as it twitched on the snow coated ground. The blood pooled staining the white fresh snow. Were they really bandits? Gwyn thought as she leaned back, swallowing back irony saliva. The road they were traveling on was barely used by merchants and the only thing they had was a large box. Cicero's mother. Her sweat covered brows pulled. A casket most likely. Gwyn dared another look below her when the voices died down. Her body stiffened, similar to that of rigor mortis. With hazy eyes the man with disgustingly greasy hair stared up at her with a tilted head. "Well, looks like I found Molag's pet"

* * *

Gwyn screamed till she could feel the burning pain of her throat. A hook digged deep into her shoulder, held taunt by the chain shackled to the end of it. "They paid a pretty penny for you" the man whistled a smug look splayed across his features as he dragged her across the forest floor into a clearing. In the center stood a sturdy tree. It's leaves long gone, lost to the season. The pale white tree loomed grimly over the group. Gwyn let out a pained shriek when the hook was yanked from her shoulder. The flesh was torn from the morbid tool of torture. Once used for holding meat it was now twisted into something only created by a living nightmare. Gwyn coughed and sputtered before forming a sentence "how did you know I was up there?" Her head hang backwards begging to lean up against anything. The man gripped her injured shoulder, digging every digit into the feverish wound. He spoke as he dragged her to lean up against the tree "you underestimate me" he rasped pulling out rope. The rope was wickedly woven with barbed metal. The material soaked in some liquid. "I used magic" his voice laced with amusement while he knotted the rope around her squirming wrists. Gwyn began to thrash at the burning feeling when the rope engulfed her wrists. Like acid was dripped onto her flesh agonizingly slow. Her teeth gnashed, grinded against one another. Nostrils flared, burning flesh seeped into her nose as her skin liquefied and stuck to the rope. He dropped her arms infront of Gwyn his face beaming with glee. "Such an unholy creature" he chuckled shaking his head as he knelt infront of Gwyn. "Rope soaked in holy water blessed by a priest of Meridia" he tilted his head in delight. "Your skin will dissolve, boil. But you won't die. No, but you'll wish you did" he stood, nodding to someone out of Gwyn's sight. "You see" he started arms wide in exaggeration. "Monsters like you are difficult to kill, like tiny insects that wiggle into the foundation" he began to pace infront of Gwyn, sword in hand. "However" he stopped pointing his sword at Gwyn's throat. "Your not so immortal as you think" he drew his sword away and pulling it away to tap it on his shoulder. "The Jester" he pursed his lips before he smiled. "Was he your friend?" He questioned with a all too giddy voice. "Gwyn snapped "No! He betrayed me left me to-" the vile man laughed. Head thrown backwards, shoulders shuddering. "Oh Gwyn, he died for you"

* * *

Gwyn froze. Mouth hang open. The back of her eyes burned. She couldn't cry. Her throat grew dry and clenched on itself. Her tongue gagged her. No. This is wrong. "What?" Gwyn stared ahead, mind numb. Body numb. Numb. Numb. Numb. Her wrist didn't pulsate with pain. So dull. "Yes, he's dead. Let me tell you just exactly how" he sat, one arm propped up onto his knee. "We put him on his knees, his face nothing but pulp. His nose smashed sideways. His jaw, well I was sure it was beyond the help of a potion. His fingers were twisted, shit we could've woven a basket with them aye boys!" He chuckled fist thrown in the air as his men did the same their laughter making Gwyn sink further and further away. "Anyway, his ribs were pretty bad too. Even smashed one or two myself. But the best part" he grabbed Gwyn's chin roughly pulling her face towards his. "The best was sliding the knife against his throat and watching the fat spread open to let the blood _ooze_ from the cut. MMMHH! Would do anything to see that again" he shoved Gwyn's head sideways as he stood. "Maybe I will" he parted with that, disappearing behind her. His voice still haunted her empty mind "Also the Mistress gives her blessings. She's happy you'll serve Molag Bal even in death" Gwyn's heart sunk. Her counterfeit breath stilled.

* * *

Alone. Always will be alone. Gwyn's head rolled forward and hang. Alone. Alone. ALONE SO FUCKING ALONE! Gwyn bashed her tied hands against the tree. She couldn't risk running. Couldn't watch herself in slow motion being shot down with tainted arrows. How'd she known? They openly, pridefully spoke of the laced paralyzing arrows. Maybe it was a bluff but either way she was dead. So fucking dead. Gwyn's shoulders trembled mocking desperate cries. Instead her head shook and her lips turned into a mournful smile. She actually thought Cicero would betray her, would leave without stabbing someone. Gwyn laughed. Laughed, and laughed until it was all she could hear. Drowning out the barking orders. Muffling the footsteps. Muting the knotting of rope. She only knew they threw a noose over her head when the rope began to burn.

* * *

They were going to string her up, and then set the tree on fire. Not before the leader stepped before her, a stone necklace in hand. Symbols carved harshly into the river stone hang on withered rope was placed around her neck. Power hummed inside the smooth stone, providing a uncomfortable heat. The heat battling Gwyn's chilled sweat. "Would you be a dear and keep this?" He spoke tongue forked and a sneer Gwyn would die to tear off his mouth. Gwyn didn't reply, only stared ahead. Merely a woman that had retreated into her mind. A animal beaten to submission. She only waited for it to end, for the rope to dig into her neck and the fire lap at her legs. Gwyn had lost everything in half a day.

* * *

" _Alive"_ Gwyn couldn't hear the distance whisper past the thundering pulse in her ears. Couldn't concentrate as the rope digged tightly into her throat. The sickening crunch as her spine strained at the weight. " _loved"_ it's words lost to the wind as Gwyn's feet kicked involuntarily. Her body begged to be released, cried for circulation, twitched in desperation." _My child believes she's been forsaken"_ Gwyn's body twitched once more before stilling letting the fire devour her. " _find him_ _sweet child"_ the voice overburdened the thunderous echo in her head. _"Fight"_ the rope gave, snapped in two sending Gwyn tumbling to the snowy ground. Only then did she recognized the noise pulsing in her ears. A great fire roasted behind her, it's colors twisting to a odd Violet. It's roar changing to a disturbing howl " **NOOO!** " Gwyn wrestled the rope from her wrists tossing it to the ground as she scrambled to her feet. First, she stumbled as if she was a foal being taught to walk. Just like a Foal she learned quickly, the terror of death making her legs push harder to escape. To sprint until her feet bled. Till her mind thawed from the numbness. "CATCH HER! WE CAN'T LET HER LEAVE!" Gwyn made it out of the clearing, jumping over roots and downed logs. Determination in each step. The snow tainted with each step, blood. The fire had singed the soles of her feet, blisters littered with sickening puss engraved under the slick flesh. Once more Gwyn leapt over a log skidding to a stop when she heard the soft lapping of water. A waterfall!

* * *

Gwyn bursted through the foliage the sound of armoured feet become louder. They've been tracking her bloodied foot prints, the stark red contrasting against the pure white snow. With small cuts scattered across Gwyn's face she fell through the thick bushes with a pained yelp. She had fell on her shoulder, the wicked hook dug deep. The running water was louder than before, she made it. Gwyn clawed herself forward. **SPLASH!** As she reached out she found the start of the water running in-between the small river rocks. The cold winter water felt divine against her heated flesh. "There she is!" Gwyn's fisted the rocks as she fought to raise to her feet. Gwyn rose, only to fall once more. The water soaking her clothes. Her legs were trembling, the adrenaline has began to ebb out leaving her wishing to fold in on herself and drift away. "Get her NOW!" feet sloshing through water made Gwyn twitch. "GRAB HER! IM GOING TO KILL HER MYSELF!" A hand curled around Gwyn's foot and yanked. Her shirt tore as she was dragged, her stomach bled from the rocks digging deep into her flesh. Gwyn flayed, kicking air as she was flipped onto her back. A scruff male, ears nicked short. A wood elf. He held a deep frown as he wrestled with her. Water had now soaked them both before Gwyn kneed the elf in the stomach. He groaned holding his stomach in agony before stumbling backwards.

* * *

The screams screeched behind her became muffled as she flung herself down the waterfall. The crystal clear water suddenly becoming horrifying as she fell drastically fast. Her hair whipped and wrapped around her face blocking her vision. She clenched her eyes shut and held out her arms in effort to block the impending contact. As soon as Gwyn's body collided with the clear icy water pain shot down her spine. The water as inviting and crystal clear as it was was hiding secrets deep under the water. The current dragged her deeper than intended and crashed her head against a rock. Gwyn gasped. Spots of her vision flickered and blackened while her limbs seemed to give up, falling limp at the mercy of the deadly current.

* * *

Gwyn clawed at nothing, trying to find anything to keep herself from getting dragged deeper under the water and further away from finding Cicero. Gwyn kicked under her trying to propel herself to the surface. As the raging water bludgeoned Gwyn against many small rocks her sore foot scraped against a ragged rock, large enough for her to thrust her head above the surface. Gwyn broke through the water silently noting she didn't need not one sliver of air as she was being pummeled by the harsh current. She was given seconds to act as a log came into sight. Her hands reached out clawing into the dead wood, blood collecting under hear nails as they flipped backwards. Gwyn clenched her teeth and pulled her body close to the fallen tree. The tree hang off the slick embankment weighed on solid ground by it's thick roots. Gwyn hauled her soaked body out of the raging waters and crawled beyond the embankment. Anything away from the god awful water. Pleasing to the naked eye, but deadly underneath.

* * *

Gwyn flipped over, her soaked clothing weighing on her inflamed wound. Sinking into the deep angry flesh. Gwyn coddled the bottomless laceration the dark almost black blood slipped through her fingers like fine sand. Her eyes rolled, it was now hard to concentrate on one thing. Everything was just so distorted. Gwyn clasped her eyes shut sucking in crisp air. She could taste the Snow Berries, the tartness lingering on her tongue. The strong Pine follow suit with an odd aftertaste. Earthy? No. Irony. Gwyn's eyes fluttered open in recognition. Blood. Familiar than just her Hunters, no something more than that. Gwyn struggled to sit up grasping her shoulder as more blood seeped past her fingers. Gwyn inhaled her shoulders shaking with the painful tremors of the breath. The familiar scent flooded all other pleasing flowers and berries. Iron so strong and stirred with an oddly sweet tang. Gwyn strained as she crawled to her feet, her teeth embedded into her bottom lip as she endured the painful pulses that begged for rest. 

* * *

Gwyn limped closer to the scent of blood, getting stronger as she neared the water. Gwyn swayed for a second little black dots dancing in her vision "no, not yet" she shook her head hoping it would dismiss the symptoms of blood loss. With the feeling of tremendous weight shackled to her legs she peered over the embankment. A alcove full with mud and clay was to her right guarded with large rocks boarding it. There blood seeped into the water and became diluted. Gwyn's saliva caught in her throat. By the Divines! Cicero had been caught against the rocks. His body beaten and mangled laid sprawled. Gwyn feel to her knees, hooking her arms under him as she hoisted Cicero as carefully as possible. With a quiet hiss and a pulse of pain down her arm she held him against herself. His face bruised, nose crushed to the side and his jaw broken. Gwyn ran a hand down his face softly a cry bubbling to a boil. His chest filled with lacerations and deep wounds. Gwyn tried to hold him to her chest as she rocked. Cicero's ribs poked from his skin in a morbid way. The flesh broken and seeping blood around the protruding bone. Gwyn dipped forward collecting him in her arms still rocking. "Its my fault! I'm so sorry" she wept as her vision became blotchy, fading and reappearing in blurred imagines. Wait. Gwyn stilled a idea catching in her mind similar to the chained hook that sank into her shoulder. Gwyn laid him out a small chill slithering up her spine as her hand hovered over his face. She cringed as she set his nose, the crunch making a quiver tremor down her spine. She then laid her hand on his jaw. Her eyes lingered, Cicero resembled a corpse. His eyes open but glazed over. The amber shine to them dulled by death. Gwyn closed her eyes tight as the more grotesque crunch of bone echoed in her eardrums.

* * *

Even as Gwyn's vision tunneled and her neck burned with the I'll intent of slipped delightfully into the void Gwyn kept her eyes open. Peeled. She bit into her wrist. Severing veins and tendons. Blood streamed down her arm. She had to save him, even if it meant... Her arm stilled over his open mouth. If she did this Cicero would forever live the life of torture. Always feasting on the necks of the innocent. Forced to be a Nightwalker. Gwyn closed her eyes. Collecting herself, counting her options. Her mind was made. She slammed her wrist against his mouth, watching the dark tainted blood slither down his maul. She rather let him tear her limb from limb in rage then let him die to paid mercenaries.

* * *

She doesn't know how long she sat there, watching over him, waiting for him to blink. Cicero's wounds had healed, his bruises faded into his pale complexion. BUT HE DOESN'T WAKEN! Gwyn slammed her hands against her head, hot tears running down her cheeks in thick red trails. Even her blood couldn't save him. She wrapped her arms around Cicero's body, stuffing her face into his amber locks. The Sweet Rolls becoming comforting as her body trembled. **THUNK!** Gwyn doubled over. A pained gasp leaving her chest as she unraveled Cicero. His body thumping against her curled up legs. Gwyn's mouth hang open in a useless pant as she reached to her side. Her fingers curling around a bolt, it's wood carved harshly but none the less deadly. She plucked it from her ribs, a groan creeping out from her esophagus as she clutched it in her fist. The head of the bolt a unique black opaque stone, tinted with green. Tinted? Gwyn's fingers began uncurling. Gwyn fought to hold it, a paralysis washing over her. No, no no! Gwyn's eyes blurred red with fresh tears. That's when her arms fell limp at her sides just before she slumped over. Gwyn lost feeling in her body, it swept over her like a silent killer. Gwyn's face buried into Cicero's chest, there she whispered sorrowful prayers silently with eyes closed. "Didn't figure you were stupid enough to fling yourself off a waterfall" a gruff chuckle echoed behind her as feet crunched snow beneath their feet. "Then again, you weren't smart to begin with were you?" A hand fisted their fingers into Gwyn's tangled hair lifting her head. Gwyn lazily opened her eyes. The poison working it's way into her face made it hard to blink. The man snarled at her, his teeth blackened and rotting.

* * *

Everything was swirling, dancing and twirling with vivid colors that burned Gwyn eyes. Oh how she yearned to close them to blink away the pain. However, her body was frozen in time laying limp. A searing pain bursted through her ribs, spreading to her chest. A scream begged to be released from the deep caverns. Men gathered, beating, stabbing, kicking and laughing. How the laughing haunted her, echoed all around her till that was all she could hear. Gwyn, her mind tired and withering fought the void that began closing in. She took all of her energy to make a finger twitch. Just one. And when it did she worked to her arms. When she began taking control over her arms a strangled scream hoarse and weak made her heart leap then sink. Cicero was awake. How her heart sang in joy but her mind hushed it. She could barely move her arms, he would surely die before she regained movement over body. "Gwyn!" His voice was raspy. Gwyn strained harder a broken moan escaping her maul. "Oh no, no, no~ your not doing anything pet" the leader grasped her feet dragging them until he gripped her left arm and leaned in. His oily hair brushing her face. "You're going to die and he's going to watch" he covered her face with his dirt covered hand and with one swift movement crashed her skull against the ground. Gwyn gasped, the world soon plummeting into darkness. Pain, so much pain. It pulsated through her body in waves after waves, drowning her under the current.

* * *

Voices. So many. Gwyn was sure she had slipped under. A crunch. Gwyn's mind raced. They were tearing her apart. A muffled bellow followed by a choked moan. Gwyn wrestled with her unconscious body, begging to just open her eyes. Warmth seeped down her finger tips. She was regaining feeling! Even in the darkness Gwyn felt her fists coil a sticky liquid slithering out. Was this hers? "Gwyn?" A shaky voice squeaked from behind her. Like a curtain, the void drew backwards slowly. First, blurred shapes surrounded her. Then the shapes refined to the tall oaks. Gwyn blinked. "Are you okay?" She turned, gradually as to not induce dizziness. Cicero leaned against a tree, his eyes wide in horror. Gwyn was puzzled, Cicero was never- bodies. Gwyn stumbled backwards, her bottom sinking into the bloody snow. Bodies, laid mauled and headless. Their bodies shredded, innards sprawled across the snow. The most noticable was the lacking heads, no where to be seen. "You killed them" Cicero gulped his eyes moving over the corpses. "Turned into a-" his words drifted off as he stared into her eyes "a creature" his voice so small. Gwyn could feel her hands shake. Her clothes were hanging by threads. Just like her mind. 


	10. Ma'Dunmer

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter manly is more laid back but it is really mind blowing (◠‿◕)

Sweat. Blood. Screams. Gwyn thrashed, yelped when sharp talons chewed through her flesh as ghoulish hands held her to the white snow. Felt her skin separate as the nails cut her stomach and the blinding hot pain seared through her abdomen. She screeched, her jaw almost touching her chest as spit flew from her maul. Gwyn tried to flip into her stomach and crawl away from the horrid demons but her muscles gave. They had been severed. Her head flopped onto the snow, the crisp cold soothing as weak gasps came from her mouth. A scream small and fragile came from her legs. Gwyn's mouth clamped shut as well as her eyes. Tears prickling at the water line as she clenched her eye lids tight. No. Hands soft and small clambered at her midsection followed with a welp. No, she refused to look. Refused to accept it. She thrashed her head sideways when the clawed hands latched onto her face whispering hisses in her ears " _look, just look. It cries for you. Didn't you want it? Coimhead! carson a tha thu diùid bhuaipe?!"_ Gwyn wept, the cries at her feet getting louder. The claws pried her eyes open, the talons sinking into her lids. A child. Small and delicate laid propped into her lap. Her innards spewed around the baby coating it with blood. Gwyn now regretted not sparing her attention to the babe. It stole her breath. It's darken skin glistening against the reflecting snow like refined diamonds. The ears sharp and defined elegantly, not one imperfection. Her eyes a bright vibrant burst of yellow with a hint of red around the edges, so entrancing. Gwyn's hands were released as the ghouls slowly retreated. She reached out, her hands quivering. Was this her's? Her fingers skimmed the wet surface of it's flesh before gripping it gently and bringing it to rest on her chest. Gwyn shook with joy, tears streaming down her cheeks as she rocked holding the babe closely like it might fade into the snow beneath her. A child born from her flesh and blood. " _Bidh mi a ’tuiteam nad ghàirdeanan mar aisling, pàisde. Tha thu a ’cur dragh orm. Do phàiste, marbh-bhreith. Ach nad shùilean tha mi a ’faireachdainn na sgrìoban. Tha mi a ’faireachdainn na deòir. Agus an gaol a chaidh a reubadh bhuat._ a voice whispered next to her ear, a haunting melody. Gwyn whipped around searching for the mysterious voice, the language lost to her ears.

* * *

Gwyn awoke her arms clenching tightly to confused Cicero. His brows pulled taunt. "You where whimpering" his voice was raspy from sleep. Had she woken him? Cicero sat up on his arm, unwinding Gwyn's coiled limbs from his waist. "Was it a dream?" Gwyn sighed, she couldn't even explain what she had dreamt. It's meaning confusing her. "Was it the bodies?" Cicero inquired again. This made Gwyn stiffen, tremors creeping up her spine. Bodies. Laying in pools of their sticky blood flashed behind her eyelids. Screams permeated around her, drowning out with gurgled moans. Unconsciously she gripped the necklace that hang at her neck, her fist wrapping around the warm carved stone. "You where different" Cicero curled her to his uncovered chest, his voice sounding oddly sane. "Your skin bursted like it was a boil" he whispered above her lost as he stared straight ahead a disturbed twist to his features. "Your ribs" he paused his words cowering down his maul as he swallowed back the whimper. "They... They unfolded outwards to make wings" his hand that laid on her lower back began trembling. "Those beautiful eyes turned black like the Void, no darker. Much darker" Gwyn grabbed the shaking hand into her own as she tried to take hold of his blank stare. "Are you afraid of me?" Gwyn's eyes searched his amber orbs as they suddenly flicked to hers.

* * *

He cleared his throat before he spoke "Cicero isn't afraid of his Gwyn" he peered down at her a smile lingering on his thin lips. Gwyn eyed him disbelief evident, at least he was back to himself. "Cicero should start packing, need to be be near Helgen by nightfall" Cicero stood quickly as he rushed about picking up items around the small camp. After the paid mercenaries they had traveled further south until Cicero grew tired and fell asleep as he held to the reins tightly. She worried over him, watched him carefully since that day. Wanted to be there when he turned. To comfort him, hold him to her chest when the starving fire seeped into his bones. "Gwyn?" Cicero called after her, food piled in his arms. "Hurry, Cicero can't be late" he turned stuffing the food haphazardly into the knap sacks hanging off the wagon. Gwyn stood, buckling the armor onto her chest that they had procured from the bodies. A shudder rolled over her skin at the thought but pushed it back when she spoke "where exactly are we going?" She quizzed with a quirked eyebrow buckling the last buckle on her steel chest plate. Cicero spoke from over his shoulder "Falkreath, Cicero's family live not to far from the town" Gwyn shrugged her shoulders, the information given to her quelling the curiosity. With a soft metallic scrape Gwyn sheathed a iron sword at her side. "Lest go meet your family then"

* * *

It had to be hours, time for her was different, shortened. She turned her stare to the horizon. It had to be near nightfall as the sun began setting sending vibrant orange and pink colors across the sky. The carriage jolted as it hit a stray rock making the horses throw their head back startled by it. Cicero held the reins tightly against his chest with a hiss. "Damn horses, Cicero should eat them" Gwyn barley heard the soft aggravated whisper underneath his breath as Cicero's face screwed together. Gwyn shook her head with a swift chuckle "are you sure we'll be there by nightfall?" Gwyn inquired as she took the reins from Cicero momentarily. Cicero huffed, his shoulders deflating " No, Cicero is not sure" his head slumped making his hair a thick curtain of red amber. The horses neighing with soft huffs echoed in the background as Gwyn eyed Cicero. Why hasn't he turned? It's been almost two days now. It worried her. "Are you okay?" Gwyn turned watching the two mares swing their manes in the gentle wind. "Cicero is sad" the tone of his voice pathetic and almost like a little babe having a tantrum. Gwyn laughed, her giggle making Cicero's head pop up the slightest. "Why must you laugh at poor Cicero? Is Cicero doing something that amuses his Gwyn?" His eyes squinted as a sharp ray of light pierced his eyes making him reel back and defending himself with his hand. Gwyn watched, her face mostly emotionless. Trying to figure him out silently.

* * *

It was nightfall and they still didn't reach Helgen. Gwyn huffed at her spot on a fallen log, it's wooden splitters digging into her backside. Cicero blamed the horses non stop for their slow behavior. Whipped them until Gwyn could smell the iron in the air. Gwyn glanced toward Cicero whom held a agitated hum like a blanket, twisted tightly around his shoulders. His face shoved into a bowl that had been filled three times now. Gwyn's brow bowed a migraine setting in. _"what have you done child?"_ Pain pulsated behind her temples in a agonizing beat. She leaned forward cradling her head as she whispered quietly "he was going to die, again" Gwyn growled lowly her patience thinning. The migraine grew till all she could comprehend was thunderous pain. Gwyn leaned forward more as her knees slipped to the moist decomposing leafs on the ground. " _he was not meant to be immortal my child, he will not accept this"_ Gwyn felt a fang sink into her bottom lip as she endured the pulsating pain. "He will have to, just as I have Mother" her words sullen. The pain increased like it had a mind of its own before drifting away completely, just as fast as it came. Gwyn huffed blinking her eyes harshly to rid them of the building moisture. She rose from the leafs, her knees soaked. Cicero didn't even notice her lapse in conversation or even her odd mumbling. No, his face covered in food like that of a hog. How long would it be?

* * *

Early in the morning they left, Gwyn kept an eye on Cicero and his shift in personality. It was small but with each day it would grow. His mad talks would increase, little twitches, most importantly his outbursts. They were few in number but when they occurred blood would fly. Either hers or his. Surely he would regret it later with a simple sorry and a short peck on the lips. However, it worried her. He was different. It was taking longer for him. Too long. To make it worse, Gwyn felt her hunger once again taking its hold on her tenfold. It getting stronger each day. At that thought Gwyn's mouth grew dry, pleading her to bring her wetskin to her lips. Animal blood was cutting it lately. However, it only made her only hungrier later on. Even with that she gulped down the thick liquid, it's fluid making her cringe. Chunky coagulated lumps would stick to her tongue making her shiver. "Cicero is hungry. Cicero could eat a sweetroll or a carrot" he mumbled his left hand holding the reins while he rested his head against the other. Gwyn corked the wetskin running her tongue across her lips as she caught a sharp smell. Spice. Sweat. Incense. And ooooh. Gwyn let a smile crack her red tinted lips. Moonsugar. "Your in luck Jester" Gwyn slapped his thigh earning a swift groan of confusion. "A Khajiit caravan, surely they'll have Sweetrolls" Cicero perked up, no longer slouching, a eager smile stretching his smile.

* * *

It was only a few miles down the vacant cobble stone road before they saw the tents spread out on the side of the road. Gwyn let her eyes float closed inhaling their aromas of strong meat and mouth watering Skooma. Every blue moon Gwyn would partake in Skooma. Back in her young elven days she would buy Skooma and indulge in it in serene forests. In hindsight she was surprised she wasn't robbed by bandits or eaten by a bear. She chuckled to herself as she remembered. She would stumble around, stars bursting behind her eyelids as the various colors of the flora would memorize her. Those sweet memories persuaded her two buy two viles of Skooma relishing in the clinking of coins as she handed over the Septums. Those mercenaries were paid well. Two-hundred each. Gwyn and Cicero split it to four hundred for the both of them. As she coddled the two purple viles a older Khajiit gripped her wrist just as she began leaving. His once beautiful coat of fur now speckled with grey. The bright orange and red that dotted his fur now monochrome and lacking in its spiteful arrangements. "This one reeks of death" the Khajiit's lip curled upwards hissing. Gwyn attempted to wrench her hand from his clawed grasp. "Old man let go of me!" Gwyn growled her hunger creeping back faster than normally. The Khajiit tisked, "you cannot trick Dro'ashra's eyes little one" he pulled Gwyn closer enough to have his long whiskers tickle her cheeks. "Mhm" Dro'ashra pondered as he curled his weathered paws around Gwyn's chin. He pulled her head from side to side his quizzical stare never leaving her face. "Ah, this one is young. Not as experienced as the many Daughters of Coldharbour Dro'ashra has seen". Gwyn slapped his paw away with a sharp growl " old man, I can't guarantee my hunger will spare you. Even with all your fur" Gwyn felt a cringe slither down her spine as she thought about how digusting it would be to feed on him. All of that hair sticking to the inside of the mouth. Ew. The chuckle of the Khajiit startled Gwyn. "This one is fiesty. Your the first of your kind that can bare the ability that you own little one" he said with amusement as he stepped back, a hand combing through his long lions mane. Gwyn's eyebrow quirked "what are you talking about? Has the sun metled your brain?" She crossed her arms as she watched out of the corner of her eye Cicero briskly run to the carriage, food overflowing from his arms. "Hmph, is this one this thick skulled?" he shooed his hand as he waved it nonchalantly "Dra'arriko dear, you must come here" a female Khajiit pulled back a the tent flap a visable frown plastered on her quite vivid fur. Unlike the male, she had pure white fur with underlying of faint blue. It baffled Gwyn. Her eyes even more breath taking. Icy blue with hints of violent bursting like a star in her orbs. "What is it? One of your daughters is due to bare twins." Dra'arriko shook her head, "poor child will be lucky that she doesn't die during birthing. The Cubs will be Pahmar-raht" Dra'arriko wringed her paws with worry.

* * *

Dro'ashra chuckled, his furred chest heaving. "Dear, she is strong she'll live to see their morph" the female huffed confusion as she started upon Gwyn. "Dra'arriko, what do you see?" Gwyn narrowed her eyes as she looked back and forth between the Khajiit. She was sure she was just being used as a nice jest. Dra'arriko's aura immediately changed. She was on edge. "Why is a Night Stalker here?!" Dra'arriko's eyes grew feral and her fur puffed up. It would've been adorable if it wasn't for the number of Khajiit staring at her. "I'm just going to-" Gwyn turned to leave, it was quite evident she was not welcomed. Instead, the same clawed hand grabbed her around her shoulder. "This one will be surprised to hear this" Gwyn swiveled back around her arms stuffed tightly around her. Cicero had to be worried. Or was he? A quick glance over her shoulder answered it. To involved in Sweetrolls to notice Gwyn. Gwyn huffed waiting impatiently. "Dra'arriko, dear look closer doesn't she hold herself differently?" Dra'arriko stiffened, her lips peeling back as she hissed out her words. "No, this isn't possible. A Night Stalker wouldn't be able to bear a Ma'Dunmer." Ice slid down her back and drenched her to the bone. Gwyn's strucken face amused Dra'arriko as she purred in satisfaction before leaving to disappear back into the tent where a scream echoed from. What? No, she heard that wrong. Right? Her bulged eyes landed on Dro'ashra. A smile curled his lips "this one will bare one strong Ma'Dunmer" his golden eyes snaked towards her stomach "a female it would seem." Gwyn felt the world wash away only to be replaced with the dream she had. Where she held her child close to her bossom, drenched in blood. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, to simplify. Yes, I'm aware there hasn't been enough time lapse for it her to fully be aware of a child. Now, these Khajiit are able to (in my book) smell her hormone shift. Just as dogs can tell a woman is pregnant. So thats to explain it a little.
> 
> Also the Scottish Gaelic that was used is this:I fall into your arms like a dream, baby. I'm worried about you. Your baby, stillbirth. But in your eyes I can feel the scratches. I can feel the tears. And the love that was torn from you


	11. State of Mind

Gwyn couldn't recall how long she had sat there listening to the stories and knowledge that the old Mane gave as he rocked a sandy colored Cub in his arms. After she found out the impossible Gwyn knew, no needed to find out more. More information about Vampire Thralls and most importantly a child.

* * *

Dro'ashra ushered Gwyn inside the tent, the spiced aroma floating out greeting her. Inside, the tent was much bigger, full with pillows that varied in size. Softly Dro'ashra shoved her onto a pillow that almost swallowed her whole with it's size. "So little one ask away" Dro'ashra got comfortable across from her as he handed off the Cub that began to stir in his arms. Gwyn wrung her hands that laid in her lap "How is it possible?" Her voice was weak as she eyed the extravagant patterns sewed into the pillow underneath her. Dro'ashra crossed his arms deep in thought while he scratched his chin "Your one of a kind little one, Dro'ashra hasn't seen this before" Gwyn deflated that wasn't the answer she was looking for. Her eyes silted "How in the Divines do I feed it? It's not like-" Dro'ashra stopped her with a finger. "How do **You** feed little one?" Gwyn clamped her mouth shut as her eyes casted downwards. "That is your answer, it is growing even as we talk however animal blood won't be able to sate it's hunger for long" he hissed reaching for a tobacco pipe. "This isn't possible" Gwyn whispered under her breath, the sweat beading at her neck showing the nervousness that had begun welling up. "But here you are. Now is there anything else?" He put the pipe to his lips puffing out the smoke in small rings. Gwyn's throat clogged at the rising question. "How long does it take for a Thrall to turn?" She asked as she encircled her arms around herself. Dro'ashra sighed "commonly, a day. But for a Daughter Of Coldharbour" he paused puffing out another ring of thick smog "it's different" he huffed.

* * *

Gwyn pulled her eyebrows together in confusion "Different how!" She stood the anger making her blood boil. "It's a longer process, a harsher one. It could be weeks, months or a year." Gwyn growled ready to leave when Dro'ashra spoke once more. "Be ready though, when your blood has taken over his body he will be the visage of the dead. When he wakes you must calm him little one, or the death of many will be promised" Gwyn took his words with the grain of salt but none the less took his word.

* * *

As she walked towards the carriage horrendous thoughts raced through her mind. How would she tell him? By all records this was impossible. A undead full with child? **Impossible.** She shook her head trying to scatter them to the dusty wind but they came running back. _"child why so confused?"_ Gwyn sighed tiredness suddenly washing over her as she hauled herself onto the carriage blocking out Cicero's delirious mumbles . " _This is the will of Sithis"_ Severa's voice spoke ghastly. Gwyn sighed as she tried prying more from Mother but neither of the voices spoke. The deathly silence that encumbered her started to pull at her anxiety making her leg bob. Cicero's side glance told her that Gwyn's nervousness was quite noticeable. "Gwyn is there something a matter?" Cicero mumbled pilling the last remnants of his Sweetrolls into his mouth. A cold sweat ran down Gwyn's neck. Her fingers twisted together. " I-I'm not sure" her voice squawked as her windpipes began to collapse. Her mind raced, as she stared open mouth at him wishing the words would appear. But they didn't, instead Cicero's face twisted into a snarl his lips curling. "Well!?" Cicero hissed his newly found impatience bubbling forth. Gwyn clamped her eyes shut forcing back the urge to blurt out her little secret. Yell it so quick that perhaps he wouldn't hear. "I-" Gwyn's lower lip quivered as Cicero drew out a sigh. _I can't._ Gwyn was defeated. It wasn't time. Simply too early, silently Gwyn promised to tell him after he took on his Change. "I don't we'll make it on time to Helgen" Gwyn unscrewed her eyes glancing at Cicero with exhaustion. Could he not notice? not see the change in her appetite? Was he so blind to her? 

_In due time, in due time dear._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one is kinda short. Sorry about that Ive been pretty booked on everything right now. But hope you guys like this little sneak peek.

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone coming from Wattpad this story did originate from there, I have a account there as well. I had made a couple chapters there but I want to re-do the storyline and tweak it better.   
>  Hail Sithis!


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